Butterfly Girl
Chapter 4: I, their friend
Some were fond of saying that life is full of learning experiences. I preferred to refer to them as "no shit" moments, as they become plenty obvious when one thinks of them in retrospect. Like touching a piping hot iron as a kid and realizing that it's, you know, hot. Or accepting that you were an absolute doofus as a child, no matter how much your loved ones liked to tell their distant relatives otherwise.
On that same vein, I had learned an important lesson since my decision of putting that charcoal piece into use.
It being: Everything is an art supply if you're brave enough; from rice paper and leaves to pencils and beet juice. The inability to access conventional drawing material forced me to be creative with my experiments.
Nevertheless, this had led me to an enormous realization.
If it could be drawn on and then broken, it could exist.
"Possibly," I muttered, careful to keep my own volume low. The monks, as recently discovered, could be more perceptive than I'd given them credit for. Now, to be fair to me, I hadn't given them too much credit in the first place, but I couldn't deny that keeping my activities secret had proven to be a rather challenging task. More so when one of said monks was ―for lack of more pleasant words―a needy idiot who cared.
Cared too much, if someone asked me.
"So, Liz," Bai's eyes shifted in my direction. "you've been suspiciously eager to go back to your room early these days." His subtlety, as always, was not too different from an elephant's in a china shop. I made a quick mental note to make him aware of this flaw one of these days. It would probably become convenient to do so, or so I figured.
Not that it was now.
"I'm just getting tired faster as of recent. It's probably the weather." I pointed to the grey skies, mindful of the laundry in my arms. The rain from a few days ago had become persistent since its first arrival; most likely a consequence of how hot it had been the previous weeks.
Bai stared on, visibly unconvinced, and made sure to let me know this as he drawled a biting 'Suuure'. He'd hit the douche-bro-dialect nail right on the head, too. It managed to be both impressive and incredibly irritating at the same time.
"This hoser is a monk."
My eyes fell to the side, mindful to insert the correct dose of mockery in the following sentence."What prompted this conversation, anyway? Ya feeling lonely or something?"
He scoffed, looking very much ready to argue, but dropped the subject as expected. I resisted the urge to sigh to myself.
Truth be told, the past four days had been a logistical nightmare. Gathering supplies and then getting rid of the evidence under everybody's noses wasn't easy-breezy at all. On the third day, Bai took exception to my continuous rejections to play Mahjong with him―an activity which I'd ditched in favor of research― and had thus concluded that something fishy was going on.
(An insinuation that I didn't appreciate, by the way. I didn't like Mahjong that much. Guan couldn't be more wrong; this wasn't developing into a problem).
Between Bai's meddling and the fear of being found out, any progress of discovering my new powers could only be described as abysmal at best. Which, truth be told, grated on my nerves.
Like, a lot.
"At least I can channel frustration into productivity." I thought, reaching for another blanket to fold.
On the flip side, my learning attempts hadn't all been for naught. The experiments had confirmed certain rules.
Firstly, whatever it was that I created, always had at least one characteristic, or remnant, from one of the mediums it had been made with. Like the charcoal pieces inside the apple. Besides this, and as far as I knew, I could manipulate certain numbers of attributes at a time, such as taste, size, texture, and smell. Not as much as I'd like to know, but it was a beginning. Bringing things inside my room unnoticed had proven to be more difficult than expected, and I realized that I'd need an alibi in order to continue unbothered until Guan's return.
I had finally come up with a new idea.
"Monk Yiduan and I were talking today." Bai disclosed, his tone casual as he unloaded a new basket on the table. "He mentioned that you're interested in meditation."
"Yeah."
"You've never been interested in this sort of thing."
"I'm now."
He brought his hands together, as if praying, and rested them under his chin. Something that sounded suspiciously close to a hiss came from his direction.
"And you're planning to do it alone? In the forest?"
"I can't concentrate when other people are around me." My smile widened, acquiring a saccharine quality to it that bordered on nauseating. "Monk Yiduan has given me some pointers, so I'll know what I'm doing. Kinda. I'll ask for help if there's something I don't understand."
'Bullshit.' His eyes accused. I swallowed a nervous smile, humming as to buy me a few seconds. The conversation was in dire need of being redirected to safer territories. "Alright, so what did that one uncle of mine do every time people gave him crap for starting political arguments during Christmas dinner?"
"You know, Bai." I said suddenly, my brow furrowed in concern. "You look to be in a bad mood lately. Grumpy. What's really the matter?"
His eyebrow twitched, then fell. I suddenly felt very good and very bad about my decisions.
"I'm not grumpy." He grumbled, sounding very much like a cat fresh out of the bathtub. Channeling my inner cashier, I plastered on a faux smile; the kind that gave people a rotting tooth.
"Riiight." I parroted. It was the same kind of drawl he'd used before, the tick below his eye informing me that he'd noticed.
"I am not."
"Yeah, and I believe you."
We kept folding in silence. I counted the seconds in my mind.
"68, 69. Nice. 70, 71."
Finally accepting his loss, the monk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The new record was quietly filled and thrown at the back of my mind. One day, he would realize the futility of trying to out-stubborn someone like me.
Today wasn't that day.
"One of my students is finding their training… hard. I can tell he's becoming demotivated, but he's rejecting any kind of conversation."
I nodded, not completely sure why he played the pronoun game, considering that Lu was his only student as of now.
"What are you gonna do about it, then?"
"That's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"What." A chuckle escaped me as I shook my head at him. "Why would I know what to do?"
Moving his hands in circles, Bai cringed, the appropriate words seeming to elude him. "Aren't you women better at... you know... talking? Having hearts to hearts, managing children an all of that?"
"No, that's... not how it necessarily works, dude."
"But you are better with them than me, right?"
I probably was. Not that I felt like entertaining that line of thought any further. My pleasant smile dropped to a deadpan, and I rolled my eyes at him.
"I can't exactly help if I have no knowledge or any context on whatever the problem is."
Something hit the table with a loud bang. I jumped at the sound, almost dropping the half-full basket of laundry to the floor. Barely avoiding whiplash by the hair, my neck twisted in preparation to scream at my companion. The words died in my mouth.
The piles of fabric had been discarded to the side. Bai laid his bare palms on the table, his knuckles cracking as he grabbed onto it in frustration. His expression of anxiousness made me take another look. Bai was impatient, easy to irritate, to rile up. He was never anxious.
"At least he would probably be willing to talk to you. To me, though―?" He suddenly turned to look at me, and my heart dropped at the bluntness of his gaze. "Recently, it seems like nobody does."
The bout of understanding that came with this jab exacerbated the initial feelings of guilt. I hadn't known he would feel that left out, and in a way, I found it a bit absurd. It had been just a few days...
"But is this actually surprising?"
Perhaps it had to do with his specific character troupe. Perhaps it had to do with his age. At 33, excluding the disciples and me, Bai was the youngest of the temple and lacked the type of composure that his seniors possessed. And while he was, by no means, on bad terms with the others, I couldn't deny that it had been easier for us to relate to each other. I, as a friend. To Lu as a mentor. A feeling of warmth, the kind that resembled heartburn, throbbed uncomfortably beneath my chest. I decided to blame it on lunch. My brain whirled with ideas as I thought about what to say.
A flick to my forehead made me flinch before I could register what had happened. I stared at Bai's offending hand, cross-eyed and confused.
His frown had finally settled into a more neutral expression, but he still looked tired. As tired as I felt. Something shifted in his eyes. His pupils moved side to side, looking for something in my face. He put an end to the behavior with a sigh. Something prickled at the back of mind.
"Weird."
Hoping into my previous train of thought, I decided to ignore the strangeness of his mannerisms. My mouth opened in preparation for an apology. "Hey..."
But Bai would have none of that. He flicked my forehead a second time, only to grin at my warning growl. "There's still work to be done. Come on now. There's this thing I heard recently that's been making the rounds―"
"In some way, it's nice to have people in your life you can't feel any guilt for."
The thought didn't amuse me as I hoped it would.
(It occurred to me that, maybe, I could spare some time to play Mahjong).
Another day passed.
'Look before you leap.' 'Curiosity killed the cat.' 'Precaution is better than cure.' '
Collecting proverbs, especially those of a cautionary nature, had always been one of my lesser-known habits. Not for academic purposes, mind you. But because, as a colossal dingdong, I could never have enough arsenal to keep myself alive when common sense failed to do so.
Big fat help had that proven to be.
'Don't run if you can't walk.' That should've been easy enough to remember.
'Don't run if you can't walk.'
"Shoot, shoot, shoot!"
Sprinting through the forest, I avoided several tree branches to the face, my eyes focused on the hint of a shadow that bounced a few meters ahead of me, fleeing, taunting―
It'd been a bad idea―no shit― when I thought about it in retrospect. Having never created anything more complex than fruit, or a tree, I didn't have any business in doing what I'd done. Being completely alone, for the first time in weeks, had made me cocky. And so, I screwed up.
I screwed up big time. Two times, really.
The second mistake squirmed against my hold: A Leaf-green cricket, its body made of actual leaf and graphite, that wiggled its limbs in disapproval. It twisted and turned with an effort to join its fugitive brother. I had caught one of them in time. The other, not so much.
In a way, the experiment was a success. I'd told them to jump, yes, but to stop at any given time? Obviously not.
"I have to catch it." My concern grew as it became harder and harder to chase after the reanimated insect. I had no way to know what kind of effect it'd had on the ecosystem if it escaped. Or, if one of the monks were to find it.
Out of nowhere, a shadow swept across the sky to dive close to the ground. Digging my heels deep in the soil, almost falling at my abrupt halt, I gapped in disbelieve at the sudden absence of the runaway cricket. It took a few seconds until I noticed it.
A crow, now perched on one of the nearby branches, threw its head behind to swallow the bug with gusto; the feathers of its neck fluffing up against the strain. It had been a rather big cricket, after all. My eyes narrowed in disgust. Clutching the remaining cricket close to my chest, I leaned against a tree, allowing my body to slip against the roughened bark and to the ground.
"Well―" I managed to get out as I panted, relief and irritation coming in waves. "Thanks for that. I hate you."
The caw that followed sounded as uninterested as it could get. Human-like to a disturbing point. In a way, this didn't surprise me much anymore: Most animals in this world seemed to possess a deeper awareness of their existence. Mind going on a tangent, I wondered if this was the same crow; the one I kept seeing outside my window. Borb, as I'd named him. He liked to peck on the fruit that I poofed into existence and subsequently got rid of, never letting the rest of the murder get closer.
A gluttonous tart through and through. I'd taken to occasionally speak to him.
"Hey buddy, explain. I thought this magic thing was supposed to be easy?"
He ignored me in favor of preening his wings. I rubbed my eyes, exhausted, the former exercise catching up to me.
"Okay, so maybe I shouldn't jump to draw living things like that. Take it slow."
But I'd grown tired of taking things slow. And that was bad; a bad thing to grow tired of.
If only Guan hadn't left, he could help me figure things out― This had become a more recurring thought with time, that Guan, in spite of all his years and wisdom, rivaled, if not defeated, Bai in terms of douchebagness. Going through my memories of the show, I couldn't help but become more convinced of this idea.
Stole a sentient dragon from a bunch of gullible kids. Sent beforementioned dragon to its death in an exchange for one of his spears. Yes, one of them; one out of the hundreds that kept collecting dust inside some hut in the temple. Then, because he couldn't stand to be just this much of a moron, he goes to abandon the clearly confused woman with unconfirmed powers with the rest of his unguarded peers. Like a dumbass. Like a dick.
(And yeah, I was still feeling salty about that last bit, but that didn't make my criticism any less valid).
My inner rant got cut off as I heard a tap near my feet. Having hopped off his branch, Borb now stood next to my calves. He stared, pointedly, at the cricket smushed against my breasts. I rose my eyebrows as a challenge.
"No. Go away, Borb. You already ate one."
He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing as if offended. The knowledge that I understood this gesture's meaning made goosebumps rise on my skin.
"I really wish you stopped doing that."
Another tap reached my ears, louder. This time, though, Borb hadn't moved.
Brow furrowed, my head snapped to follow the echo of a third and fourth tap. It came from somewhere deeper inside the forest.
My breathing stopped.
I remained still, listening. Whatever it was, it couldn't be too far away. It didn't sound to be, resembling more of a thumping rather than tapping now that I paid more attention to it. Like a heavy object hitting the ground.
"Or someone slamming a blunt weapon against the forest floor."
Well―
I stood up, rubbing my free hand against the skirt of my robe. My brain, ever so helpful, conjured several unsolicited images in succession: A masked man that dragged a bloodied mallet behind him, making his way to the next victim. A tall, skeletal, and pale humanoid figure that wandered the wilderness with heavy steps. A bear way too big to be just a bear; one that, perhaps, had never been a bear to begin with.
Pyramid Head, for some reason. I hadn't played Silent Hill in years.
'Nope, nope, nope.' My feet, God bless them, were already dragging me in the opposite direction before I could even realize it. It was the subsequent scream which made me first accelerate, before stopping on my tracks.
This, in any normal circumstance, would've been my clue to get the hell out. It wasn't. For one, I knew whom the voice belonged to.
I didn't know what to expect when I reached the source of the thumping. Nor did I know what to expect when I hid behind the trees as I watched. A short silhouette, one that belonged to a child, stood in the middle of the trees, unmoving. I considered walking up to them, unsettled by the stillness of his body. This didn't remain the case for long.
As if stimulated by a current, their arms jerked and rose. Several objects were thrown in succession. It took me a while to notice that these were stones.
Cutting through the wind with an audible swoosh, I saw them disappear between leaves and into the glaring sun. I squinted my eyes as I took in the scene in confusion.
Then, the kid was in the air, too.
Even after weeks of being caught in this dream, my heart never failed to beat out of my chest every time I became a witness of the monks' display of dexterity. Their arms were a blur as they moved with incredible speed, catching the stones as they fell. I looked at the show in awe. They looked to almost be floating, as if flying with wings that sprouted from their feet.
… sprouted from their arms?
The person was suddenly upside-down.
Closing my eyes did nothing to assuage the second-hand pain. The thwack of a body hitting the ground told me all I needed to know.
"Well, that explains the thumping sound." I mused, my face distorting in pity.
Head thrown back, the shadowed figure barked in frustration. The vague sense of familiarity became a certainty as I heard his voice yet again.
"Lu". Bai's words earlier this day came back to me. 'One of my students is finding their training… hard. I can tell he's becoming demotivated.'
"Ah."
Everything clicked into place. I got the feeling to be witnessing something I shouldn't have. For a moment, I considered leaving, and I had begun just doing that. But, as I turned around, a gut feeling compelled me to look back. And so I did.
I wasn't sure if it was his posture, the memory of his frustrated scream, or the nostalgia that his wide, brown eyes provided. Nevertheless, I did not leave. The cricket still struggled in my grasp.
I looked at Borb from above my shoulder.
"You win this time, buddy" Happy at its newfound freedom, the cricket began making its way inside the greenery but didn't get very far. There was something absolutely unpleasant in watching the bird eat, like a snake unhinging its jaw; said snake being feathered, with an inclination to screech at passersby below.
(It was time to stop stalling.)
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I faced the teenager and left my cover.
"Hey, Lu." His head snapped to look at me. And although I couldn't see his features in detail, the way he stumbled on the next word made it obvious that he felt embarrassed.
"Liz!?" The boy sputtered. Offering him a reassuring smile, curbing any attempt of escaping, I told him:
"Is it alright if I sit next to you?"
"I don't think I was born to do this." Lu muttered under his breath. We both sat on a fallen tree, side by side. He, looking forwards, his back slouched in shame. I, digesting everything he had just told me.
The sky had begun to bleed, spilling magenta between the leaves as it made its way to the west. It occurred to me that they were probably waiting for us at the temple. Bai had to be pissed beyond belief. Maybe his vexation would lessen with some compliments thrown his way. Credit where credit was due; he had been right about Lu.
"Uh, no one's born being good at something." The glare that burnt at the side of my skull had my hands raising up in surrender. I clarified. "Sure, there are those who have an easier time getting the hang of things, but even they have to practice and keep practicing if they want to get good."
"But I'm not getting better, no matter how hard I work my butt off. Why even bother?"
I completely understood this feeling, and for a second, thought about agreeing to it. It was hard― growing up, learning. Change, in all of its varieties, had always been something I considered terrifying.
Maybe he had realized this himself. But that wasn't what he needed at the moment.
Then again, I wasn't the one he needed at the moment, too.
Gosh, did I suck at making people feel better.
But I'd still chosen to try. I had to. "He looks a bit similar as―Nope, not touching that one." Perhaps I was just more sympathetic to kids. I'd been at the beck and call of one during a significant chunk of my life. "Stop that."
"You wanna give up, then?" I muttered.
"I don't have any other options."
He hung his head. A tense silence permeated in the space between us. I watched the sun slide further into the horizon, rubbing my arms as a breeze slithered by. It was always colder inside the forest.
"If that's how you really feel, then give up."
My gaze remained glued to the sky. From the corner of my eye, I watched him jolt in surprise.
"Hey!" Lu's offended tone bordered on outrage. A vein had popped on the side of his head, which I regarded with amusement. "Shouldn't you be telling me not to give up!?"
"Why should I do that?"
"What kind of question is that!?"
Unable to help it, a chuckle escaped me without my permission, surprising the teen in the process. I propped up my chin on my open palm as I smiled at him.
"Have you ever heard of the sunk cost fallacy?" His deadpan expression caused me to roll my eyes. "You know what a fallacy is, right?"
He scrunched up his nose, and I found the gesture almost endearing. "Uh, an idea that's not quite right?"
"Hmm yesn't. It's a failure of reasoning, leading to an unsound argument."
Blinking at the new information, he opened his mouth but faltered. "Sink cost fallacy." He attempted. "Why are you bringing it up?"
"Sunk cost fallacy." I corrected, my voice gentle. "In short, it's when you keep investing in something, this being time and effort in your case, because you've already done so before. You do it because you want to get 'your money's worth', so to speak, even when you become sick of it. It's a normal thing that happens to everyone, you know. In different aspects of your life as well, be it finances, relationships―" I stared into the distance. "I think it's a way to keep yourself from regretting your decisions. But, on many occasions, it keeps us from moving on to better things, things we also want to do."
Lu looked on in disbelieve "Why are you telling me this?"
For a while, the answer lingered inside my throat. "I guess, I just want to let you know that it's okay to let things go."
As it pertained to this world's morals, I suspected that this was an incredibly selfish thing for me to suggest. 'Never give up, work hard, the power of friendship will solve everything'. Xiaolin Showdown had been one of those shows; one that insisted on how the actions of a few kids, on their own, were just enough to save the planet from its evils; a planet that didn't dwell on the specifics of power structures and human cruelty. No child needed that kind of burden. So, things were easier here. There was no excuse not to help. "Just because it's easier, didn't mean it's right".
It was most likely that I didn't have the authority to decide this. Seeing this world from a lense of my own reality was not only stupid but presumptuous; an exercise in futility. The reasons for me still doing so weren't ones I liked to dwell on.
Ever so slightly, the warmth of a hand enveloped my own. My eyes dropped to my lap. Lu had grabbed my clenching fist, which had turned into a worrying shade of white.
"Liz," He asked softly. "are you alright?"
That about did it.
Like a marionette with its strings cut off, my body lurched forward, eliciting a panicked yelp from my companion. Lu latched onto my forearm as he attempted to straighten me up, his other hand cradling my back. I rubbed my head with both hands. The sudden chuckle bubbling out of my chest was filled with mirth; its sound froze him in place.
I was such an edgy dumbass.
Braid now a mess, I peered at him through my hair, regarding his stunned expression with amusement. I shook my head at him.
"You're ridiculous, kid."
In our own way, we both were.
The teen recoiled, then blinked twice. His concern turned into irritation.
"You're ridiculous!" He stammered, and I felt a bit of fondness at the immaturity of this comeback. "And I'm not a kid!"
"You sure are. You're, what, thirteen?"
"Fifteen!"
"That's still awfully young, dude." I grinned, tongue sticking out from between my teeth. "Which is why I'm telling ya still have a whole life ahead of you to choose whatever you think is best for you."
At this, he sobered up once more. Lu twiddled his thumbs.
"Should this be the end, then?" He was no longer mad, but anxious. "Do I just give up?"
"I'm not really the person you should be asking this. I have a bit of a similar problem." My smile turned briefly into a grimace. "But if you care about what I've gotta say; it'd be kind of a shame to give up. I think you're a great warrior in the making."
Lu didn't look particularly impressed with this compliment.
"Uh, Liz." He narrowed his eyes, disbelieve coating his words. "How would you know? You can't even fight."
Scoffing, I leveled a glare at him. Jeez, how rude could this kid be?
"Yeah, maybe I can't. But I'm saying it because I genuinely believe it." A groan surged from the depths of my chest at his unimpressed face. Had I also been so difficult at that age? "Remember the tree, Lu? When I was in trouble, you were the first to react and save me. That's not something anyone can do. Right now, though, you've your heart set in the right place and you've acted on it. Your abilities can and will improve."
"That still doesn't make me a warrior in the making."
I shook my head.
"You're right. It makes you a hero in the making."
For a moment, only the chirping of cicadas could be heard. Lu's hand, suddenly stiff, began slipping off mine. I held tightly onto it.
"Listen, Lu. At the end of the day, this is a decision you have to make, regardless of what I or anyone else says. It's your life. And, if it makes you happy and opens doors for better opportunities, then giving up on something is alright. Maybe you just need a change of perspective. I'm not a trainer, but some people have different ways of understanding certain things. Talk with Bai or Master Monk Guan." Whenever the dick decided to show up. "This is the type of thing that needs to be discussed with your mentors. I'm sure that they'll know how to help you."
"A new perspective." He wondered out loud. His voice sounded unusually quiet. "Like... what?"
"Dunno. I can't say I'm an expert on stuff that is martial arts related." A bit embarrassed about my ignorance, I scratched the side of my nose. "Maybe you need to think about another training method. At your age, uh―" I coughed, catching myself just in the nick of time. "When I learn something new, I usually prefer to do practical examples with things that are as similar as it is possible to the real thing. Not saying that will be your case, but―" I shrugged.
"Like when I practiced karate." My mouth closed shut before I could run it. But this was the truth. While other students could get the gist of the movements by kicking training pillows and observing demonstrations, most of my understanding had come from direct hand to hand combat.
Enthusiastic hand to hand combat, to be specific.
I hadn't liked learning karate that much.
"Maybe it's because he's lacking peers." Training circuits could only do that much. And fighting superiors, although good on its own, had the downfall of becoming frustrating and demotivating if overdone. No one enjoyed having their ass handed to them all the time.
Beside me, Lu sat in contemplation, too. Staring at his face, I considered to ask him what he was thinking, but deciding against it. He would tell me if he wanted to. Minutes passed before he jolted his hand away from mine, only to wipe it on his robes. I was about to chide him on the rudeness of this gesture when he turned to me. A goofy grin, one that forced my own frown down, lightened up his face like the lamps in a festival.
"I think," He began. "I don't want to give up yet."
And for that, I could feel proud too.
Its feathers glowed like tar in the inky night. Emerging from clouds of ash and mist, the figure glided across the muggy, dread-filled air. More out of habit than necessity, the shadow followed the mountain's red glare as a beacon, and the sight of its home soon appeared before its button eyes.
Perhaps home was the wrong term to use. But what this place really meant to him ―it― had become something the crow chose to stop thinking of a long time ago.
It landed on a platform, as silently as it arrived. Nevertheless, the crow didn't go unnoticed.
"You've been absent." A man spoke from the shadows, his voice calm, if not a bit disapproving. "It seems you have deviated from your original order. I expect there is a good reason for that."
Something slithered by in the periphery: Bright and orange, with a mocking grin. The crow shook its head in irritation.
"So," Its Lord prompted. His voice left no room for avoidance nor impertinence. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
The crow remained silent as it thought how to proceed, knowing the following moments would be unpleasant. A few beats later, it took one step forward―
―and began gagging.
Regarding the bird with puzzlement and some disgust, the Dragon Lord waited for his follower to finish whatever he'd decided to start. The crow spat a lump onto the ground. A second one followed soon; twitching and turning on a foul-smelling puddle.
The Dragon Lord stared, expectant, to which the crow nodded its head in a silent apology.
At this point, he was no longer a crow.
"I'll admit, this is unlike you, Ulf." His master commented as he watched him cleaning the mess at hand. He had enveloped them ―the crickets―, in a handkerchief, now devoid of any filth.
Another few pairs of eyes glimmered curiously in the dark behind the man, goading. The Berserker didn't betray his annoyance. There were more pressing matters to get over with.
"Talk" His master ordered.
And so, he did.
I didn't go to the forest the following days. Not that I had the motivation to do so in the first place. Being repeatedly beaten in a tile game by a kid and a part-time moron did leave some bruises on a person's sense of self-worth, as expected. Peeling potatoes in the kitchen, safe from judging eyes, was much safer in that regard.
A curse escaped me as one of the beforementioned potatoes slipped and rolled to the ground. I bent down to recover the insolent tuber, only to pause as another hand appeared in my field of vision, doing so before I could. Straightening up, I was surprised to find Lu, his robes messy with sweat. I figured he had just finished with his training for the day. He gifted the potato to me, along with a toothy grin.
"Do you need some help?"
It wasn't an offer I was about to reject.
Lu placed his chair next to mine, then looked for a knife of his own, before returning to my side. The two of us worked in silence. In the midst of the calmness, I mentally went over the tasks that still needed to be done for the day.
"Did you really mean it?" He suddenly asked. "Do you think I can be a hero?"
Blade stuck on a stubborn root, I didn't lift my face as I replied. "As far as I'm concerned, Lu, to me you already are."
A/N: Ya know, I'm starting to see the appeal of having your OCs being badasses lone wolves with anti-social tendencies. Writing relationships is hard. It's funny; this chapter had like 4k words in its first draft, and I added almost two thousand more because of character interactions. I'll revise the chapter again, tho. Not to worry, the next chapter won't take a million years to release. It's done, just in need of another revision. It will be out in two days if not tomorrow. Shit will start to go down then, as Liz has obviously had way too much of a cozy time at the temple.
Btw, I don't think I've mentioned it, but English is not my first language. If there are grammar mistakes or typos of any kind, I'd appreciate it if you point them out. I'm just pumped you're all taking the time to read this, for real!
To my dear reviewers!
NOFACE: Eesh. I'll definitely take your words at face value. Some series are definitely better off without sequels. (The exception being Shrek 2 cough cough)
Ace: Hey, glad you like it! I'm pumped this fandom is still alive and to have all of you here!
Guest: Ayyye, I'll be real with you. I didn't know cherry-flavored apple was a real thing until reading your comment. Gotta love humanity and its passion to invent weird stuff for the world to wonder at.
GingkoDreams: Heyyyy, I'm so glad you noticed that. Writing Liz's inner voice is so much fun for me. It's good that none of her friends have the Mind Reader Conch to call her out on her bs, lmao. I'm glad you like her friends. Even if it's just two more OCs, I always worry it's too many. She will get to know the actual canon characters in a close future, tho, Chase included (as you may have concluded from one of the sections of this chapter). Boooy, is the future going to be wild for her.
Also: Poor crow. You didn't even give him the benefit of doubt ;(
(I mean, you were right. But still)
Have a great week, everyone! Stay safe!
