So, a self-insert fanfiction... in the Fire Emblem universe...in Awakening... really breaking new ground here, aren't I? Okay, let's be honest, this story exists just to satisfy the urge to write that metallover and longherin gave me with their entertaining self-inserts. I've also wanted to delve into the child characters of the Fire Emblem universe. Nino was my go-to gal for every playthrough of FE-VII, and I fell in love with Kjelle and Cynthia in Awakening. So, a self-insert involving more of the child characters than the modern timeline heroes (still isn't all that original).
However, I'm going to exaggerate some aspects of my character's (myself?) personality so it's more entertaining, because honestly, no one in real life is interesting enough to be a likable and entertaining protagonist (well, at least if that person writes fanfiction). So here it is, my attempt at self-insert fiction. Yeah... enjoy?
{— A Child's View —}
Chapter 1
The sun was dying and the earth seemed to cry out in pain. The soil shook with violent fervor and trees swayed with dangerous speed, as if the ground was trying to punish us for our failure.
I fell to a knee and tried to steady myself, seeing men left and right stumbling down in similar fashion. A roar like a volcanic eruption engulfed all other sounds as the tremors increased tenfold, causing those still standing to drop like flies.
Many voices yelled out in fear and confusion as whole armies were swept off their feet and sent tumbling like leaves in the wind.
"What's happening!?" I heard a familiar scream to my left. I moved my head to look at the worried soul, but a gale of wind—stronger than a line of charging cavalry horses—whipped my head and sent me flying some several yards from where I was kneeling.
My dazed eyes glazed over the canopy of trees as I tried to cough up dirt, but I felt the violent wind almost forcing itself into my mouth, and I began to choke as the pressure of the wind wasn't allowing me to exhale air.
Turning over onto my stomach and shielding my face from the wind, I managed to choke out air once more as I struggled regain my composure and my breath.
I tried to push myself up, but the force of the currents weighed my body down with the intensity of an anvil smashing on my back. It was then that I heard a crack as loud as lightning, followed by several more cracks that sounded like a hallway of doors being smashed in.
I managed to turn my head to see the looming darkness of a gargantuan tree falling down towards me with horrifying speed, it's shadow poised right over my head.
Desperately, I rolled with the wind, allowing the strong gale to carry me as the heavy bark collided with the ground a foot away from my body. I heard a woman's scream synonymous with the crash, and I knew that someone else was caught under the tree that I had managed to escape from.
I pushed myself up against the fallen oak, acting as a shield from the wind as I managed to find a moment of rest amongst the chaos around me. I tried to peer over the tree, but the intense winds only stung my eyes and I was hopelessly blinded for a few seconds.
Following the first fallen tree, another cacophony of cracking wood and thunderous crashes echoed throughout the forest. Screams of terror and cries of pain were synonymous with the crashes, and I closed my eyes to the sounds, trying to block them out as I tried to think of ways to escape the hell that was unleashed.
In the distance, I could hear a commanding voice attempting to organize able warriors into a retreat, but even their authority was soon rendered mute by a deafening roars and a terrifying cracks of lightning.
I threw myself on the ground and started scrounging the dirt for my weapon, it having been tossed out of my hands when I myself was tossed by the winds. Yet as I frantically searched the dark grounds, a chill went up my spine as I felt the winds not only increase in ferocity, but decrease in temperature.
I noticed I was able to see my breath, and my hands began to nervously shake and twitch with the cold.
I dived back to the safety of the tree to block the wind, but winced when my back touched it as the bark had frozen into solid ice with thin icicles coming off the top. I shivered in the cold and rubbed my arms for warmth, yet the temperature just seemed to drop further and further. I tried to stand, wanting to run away from the area and find warmth with comrades, but my legs failed me as I crashed to the ground and was at the mercy of the winds.
An iron vice gripped my chest and I felt my heart pound louder with every beat. My lungs were failing me—barely rising and falling in a paradoxical rhythm—as I could only breathe through strangled gasps and choking sobs.
My arms were wrapped around my knees, holding myself to keep warm from an unforgiving, ceaseless cold that threatened to freeze hell three times over.
I feared to open my eyes for even a second, should that brief exposure damage my retinas and blind me forever. My locked jaw was grinding my teeth into powder and my was head throbbing with terrible pain.
In that moment of desolation and weakness, I hoped for a swift death as I tried to endure the ravenous storm circling around my fetal body.
I felt myself crying, yet the frozen air instantly turned my tears to ice, an ice so cold it burned the skin about my eyes and cheeks. I tried burying my crestfallen face into the insides of my shirt, but the fabric had turned rock solid, as if I were wearing cold steel armor.
Though I could not see, I knew that the corpses of those the storm had frozen over laid sprawled around me, their bodies covered in thin layers of snow and frost as their mouths echoed their last cries of pain and anguish.
Strangers. Friends. Family. I knew them all and I felt my will wilt at the thought of their pained expressions. Their last mark on this world being their tormented cries.
The gods—as if they decided to be use the last of their power to display a sliver of mercy—allowed the howling winds to die as I no longer felt my hair being pulled out my own scalp, yet I knew the storm was far from over.
With a sense of small, temporary comfort, I opened my eyes to the sky and stared at the end of the world in all of its horrible glory. From the snow white, yet red plastered ground, my vision was beginning to fade as I could feel blood fill my lungs and the act of breathing became wishful thinking.
But through my dying eyes, I could still gaze upon the six burning purple lights that were the only source of illumination across a sea of smoke and ash.
The lights moved towards the stars as a deafening roar signaled further death and destruction, and I felt myself lose all sense of sound as the world became a whining ringing noise.
Something oozed and dripped from my ears.
Nature itself seemed to bend to the will of the lights, the smoke clearing about the six floating bodies as they revealed themselves to be the red eyes of the destroyer of worlds. The end of humanity and all other creatures of this realm. A dark dragon destined for desolation and destruction...
Gri...
My eyes flashed open as I sucked in air through clenched teeth. My body shook with a surprised jump and I could hear my heartbeat going at a worryingly quick rate. Shallow, fast breaths left my lungs as my eyes dashed about with frantic worry and stress.
Twitching with intense force, I could still feel the cold as I my attempted to recover from both the fear and shock of dying.
But I wasn't dying.
I was... sleeping?
Upon realizing I had just woken up from an absolutely maddening sleep, I gave a relieved chuckle as I brought my hand to a sweat-covered forehead. My heart now beginning to calm and my muscles relaxed from their constricted, terrified state.
"What the hell...?" I more so stated than questioned as I temporarily considered therapy for having a dream as ludicrous as that.
Laying on my side with my hands rested underneath my ear, I stayed still as I stared at nothing and thought back upon the fleeting images of my dream.
A world frozen over, a dark sky in an even darker world, and six lights belonging to a monster one could only fathom in their dreams.
It wasn't a nightmare, but torture. I felt an overwhelming depression and sense of hopelessness throughout the dream, something I'd never wish on anyone in their lives.
It felt raw. The pain and the cold. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It was a sickening reality within an even more twisted fantasy.
I massaged my neck with a clammy hand and relished in the ability to inhale and exhale with difficulty.
How strange it was for me to take breathing for granted after having a vision like that.
Another chuckle escaped my tired throat as I turned onto my back and stared at my ceiling...
My ceiling...
Ceiling...
I quirked my brow and stared at what appeared to be an arrangement of small lights hanging above my bed, yet what was even stranger was that the white ceiling of my bedroom was now black, giving the illusion that I was staring at stars...
Stars...
Eyes wide, I realized those weren't adornments.
There was no ceiling.
I was staring at the night sky—a notably beautiful night sky with more stars than I'd ever seen in my life—but a night sky that wasn't meant to be there.
My eyes fixated on the sky above, I reached my hand to my mattress to push myself into a sitting position, but instead of feeling the soft fabric of my comforter, my hands were met with the prickling sensation of moist grass.
I retracted my hand instantly, not expecting such a sensation as I realized that I was resting on a mound of grass and not on the comfortable sheets of my four year old mattress.
I gave small yelp of surprise as I bounced to my feet, my body not entirely responsive after just waking up, so it was more akin to stumbling to my feet.
I stared at the dark impression my sleeping self made in the ground, the green grass now a shade of blue as the light from the moon and stars above cast a cerulean hue over the land.
My head swirled around, looking at every corner of the compass as I could see nothing but flat nature for miles around.
"What the hell...?" I found myself saying again as I struggled to comprehend my sudden change in location.
Prior to the nightmare, I remember resting my head on my pillow, having just finished the last of the summer assignments before the college year began again.
Yet, now I found myself standing alone in a field with the moon overhead.
"I'm..." I gulped, a steadily increasing heartbeat marking my gradual anxiety as a mixture of fear, confusion, and loss of control began to seep into my head.
"I'm dreaming. Yeah. Yeah! I must still be dreaming." I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to awake my unconscious mind. There was no success, which terrified me, but I was determined (or perhaps stubborn) to wake up.
I pinched my arms, jumped up and down, lightly slapped my face, but I wasn't receiving any of the tell-tale signs of vertigo or second-state awakening that might have proven that I was still sleeping.
I was still standing in the middle of a field.
Staring at the moon was my only form of comfort in an otherwise unfamiliar place since it was the only thing I recognized. My hands were shaking as much as my breathing was, and I was struggling not to break down and cry like an emotional child.
It's a horrifying sensation to feel like there's no sense of control in your life. To be suddenly be in one location different from the one you've grown accustomed to.
To be ripped from the warmth and comfort of your home and to be dumped in a foreign field without any pretense as to how you got there.
I should be calming down. I should be trying to logically assess my situation. I should be trying to figure out a plan to return home. I should not be freaking out.
But I was, and it was very hard not to.
I felt like I was kidnapped and abandoned in the side of the road like some unfortunate mafia victim, but to my knowledge there was no reason why I ended up in a field in the middle of nowhere.
I lived in a city, so I should have been nowhere near a field of grass like this!
"Where the fuck am I!?" I cried out in frustration. Digging my hands into my hair—my face going red from worry and stress—I could feel tears welling up as that recently familiar sensation of hopelessness was creeping into my core once more.
I felt my face being slapped, and it wasn't until I registered the pain in my cheek that I realized that I was the one who slapped myself.
Then I felt another sting as I stumbled to the side and almost lost my footing. Eyes locked onto the blue grass below as I could see single droplets of water drip from my hair, nose, and chin.
A slow, shaky breath was the only sound heard in an otherwise mute night as I gradually regained control of my emotions and my breathing. It was like staring at the end of a gun and trying not to panic.
Fear strangled my throat, but I had to force myself to cough or else I'd choke forever.
Thinking on the 'Whys' and 'Hows' wasn't going to help my situation, even though I desperately wanted to whine like a child and hope my mother wasn't too far. That kind of thought wasn't going to get me out of this field.
With a somewhat settled mind, I took in my surroundings once more, trying to fixate on 'Where' I was before anything else.
It seemed like nothing else but miles of open grassland, stretching for over the horizon with only occasional shrubbery peppering the landscape.
Though, it did seem like the tops of mountains were peaking over the edge at every angle, so I was in a very large valley.
Actually, there was a forest to the east, just below the light of the crescent moon.
After determining that I must traveled across three oceans and five continents and ended up in New Zealand, I tried reaching for my pocket, but felt my heart drop as I realized my cell wasn't there.
"Of course, it wouldn't be there..." I muttered to myself in angered disappointment as I tapped my other pockets for good measure, but still with no phone.
Furrowed brow with a complimenting frown, I tried to take into account what few things I did have on my person.
Old gum wrapper.
Lint.
More lint.
A dirty nickel.
And an eraser.
"Fantastic..." I uttered with beleaguered joy as I returned my life-saving supplies to my pockets before sighing with disappointment, an inkling of my will beginning to fail as-
"Ah! No! No! No!" Emphasizing each 'No' with a light slap to the face as I forced those self-deprecating thoughts out of my head.
At that moment, I couldn't afford to wallow in self-pity, not if I wanted to return home—or at the very least—to civilization.
Pushing away emotion, I scanned the horizon, looking for any source of light coming from a town, city, or even a bonfire from people camping.
I was blessed with the lifting sight of gray smoke in the distance, almost indistinguishable from the dark background of the night sky, but it was there.
However, it was a way's away, and by random guess I assumed it had to be somewhere around midnight and if I started walking I'd probably reach the fire by morning, if my sense of distance wasn't failing me.
But it wasn't like I had any other choice.
So with a hopeful step, I began to trudge through the ankle high grass, a trail of footsteps in my wake as I mentally prepared my story and how I'd interact with the people at the fire.
Hopefully they spoke English, or at least very slow high school Spanish.
Well my prediction was wrong, it was morning and I still wasn't at the source of the smoke, though it did seem like I was getting significantly closer as I could see the edge of a light forest where I'm hoping the fire was located in.
I was very thankful that no one had put out the fire yet, meaning that people were still around the smoke I was trudging towards. I prayed that whoever was there had some food on hand because hours of walking can really starve a person.
At this point, I hadn't really considered whether the smoke was caused by something accidental, such as a stray lightning bolt striking a heavily wooded area and setting an entire forest aflame. I'm seriously glad I didn't have those thoughts as I don't know if my addled mind could have handled that kind of doubt with how fragile my emotions were at that state.
Sometime into the trek, I became very confused on why I had shoes on as I knew I went to sleep with only my socks, adding to the laundry list of questions I had about my sudden displacement.
Not that I was complaining, a walk that long would have destroyed my feet without the comfort and protection of proper footwear. Although, I would have to wash out my shoes once I got home as they probably didn't have the most pleasant of scents anymore.
Suddenly changing my wardrobe from pajama bottoms to jeans was another skeptically-grateful change, as well as the addition my father's faded military jacket which provided ample cover from the cold breeze that tousled my brown hair throughout the entire walk.
The embroidered last named of "Abaroa" gave me a comforting feeling of familial union, and I imagined my ancestors were watching over me as I made this strange journey across an unknown field in an even more unknown locale.
Miles of silent hiking really gives one an almost overwhelming sense of calm, even as paradoxical as that sentence might sound.
It was the right kind of emotional stabilization I needed after almost suffering a mental break down when I first woke up. Just silence and mindless motion as my eyes locked on the rising gray plumes in the sky.
I almost fell asleep while walking some four hours in. Interesting experience to say the least, though I wouldn't recommend it unless you enjoy having a mini-heart attack when you're about to dive face first into the dirt.
"Oh thank God, I'm close." The treeline and canopy was sparse as sunlight still poured strongly, making the woods seem more like an orchard than a densely packed forest.
Rays flashed over my eyes as I continued beneath the trees, my pace slowing as I took in the sights all around me. My head turned in all directions as I tried to capture every shade of green my eyes could register. It was rare that I got to see woodlands like this, as a city can only offer so much nature before some company replaces a park with an IRS office.
Barely a few minutes in, I lost my sense of direction and had a small panic attack. I ran back to the outer treeline to find the smoke once more, and after determining the direction I needed to maintain, I headed back into the woods. I was still taking in the gorgeous scenery, but always mindful of the path I was headed down.
A few tempting bushels of berries caught my eye, and I almost dived at the small morsels for nourishment, but I luckily had a stroke of rational thought before doing so and opted to not eat them as I had no knowledge whatsoever if they were edible. Still, I cast a longing glance at every berry shrub I passed, my hunger trying to tell my brain "You'll be fine. Just one berry. I'm starving, man!"
An hour into the woods, I almost screamed in joy when I saw the first flicker of a flame behind a menagerie of trunks and bushes.
Like the berries, I started to run full speed, but then stopped myself again due to the vast amount of willpower and overwhelming logical thought that no man in the known universe could compare to that gave me the limitless strength to end my running and analyze the situation so I could determine the best possible outcome with my IQ that would make Einstein jealous and-
Okay, I tripped over a branch.
Still, as my tongue became familiar with this land's geology by taking the phrase run myself into the ground very literally, it gave my brain a few seconds of malnourished clarity to determine that perhaps charging into a campsite isn't the best approach to introducing oneself.
After scrubbing the soil off my tongue and clothes, I crouched low and attempted to edge closer to the fire without generating any noise or drawing attention to myself.
Which is easier said than done when it seems every little twig was magically placing itself in the path of my feet to produce an orchestra of crackling wood and crunching earth.
However, my dedication to stealth was for naught as upon closer inspection, there was no one home. I was initially very distraught as I questioned what was the point of all the walking, but upon entering the clearing in which the campfire laid, I discovered an established campsite that seemed very well lived-in.
Meaning that it wasn't abandoned, but its owner was just currently not in it.
It was a very crude but well-loved establishment. The camp-goer obviously had very little to work with, and it seemed much of what they did own was handmade, re-purposed, second-hand, or scrapped together with just enough care for it to be considered functional.
Another obvious fact was that they had been living in this camp for a very long time.
Ragged, moth-eaten carpets littered the ground around the central fire and several cupboards and shelves—seemingly ripped from homes of varying styles and decor—circled the edge of the site, each stacked to the brim with containers of foodstuffs and other supplies.
I was tempted to open a dirty container that undoubtedly contained apples, the only safely edible thing I've seen in the last twelve hours, but I resisted the urging desperation of my stomach once more. Didn't want my first impression upon the owner of this hovel to be that I was a thief scavenging in their home.
The more I became acquainted with the campsite, the less I was willing to call it a campsite. It seemed more like someone had just been living in the woods for years and ended up building this strange mixture of camp and home as a result.
The tent where I assumed the owner slept in was just several linens, blankets, and towels sewn together into a tarp-like cover that was all being held up by two large branches and a tree, and underneath it was a multitude of pillows of varying colors, sizes, and quality, but all of it had a faded-quality that gave me the impression that they were fished out of people's trash or salvaged from dumps.
Still, there was a lot of care put into this home. The sewing on the tarp was deftly constructed to be as strong and tight as possible, and there were several ropes tethered to the tent to make sure nothing was going to knock it down short of a sharp ax.
The carpets, though littered everywhere, were surprisingly clean despite their ancient appearance. The owner must dust and wash them regularly for them to still have some color despite being in the sun all day.
The fire pit was the most impressive aspect of the whole site, but I guess I shouldn't have been all that surprised as obviously that would have been the number one priority resource to maintain in the wilderness. Carefully laid bricks—that looked to be "borrowed" from abandoned houses or chimneys—lined the flames in a pattern that enforces the strength of the barrier as well as keeps the fire from spreading to nearby flammable objects (a few black singe marks on the carpets revealed there must have been some trial and error).
A stack of neatly chopped firewood laid at the edge of the campsite, though what was extremely surprising was that the logs were massive! It was as if the owner had carried entire tree trunks to the camp to be demolished into fuel.
"Obviously, I'm dealing with a very strong lumberjack." I muttered to myself as I walked close to the fire and sat down in front of the dancing flames. The fuel was still fresh, some parts pf the wood not yet charred by the blaze, meaning the owner must have left very recently.
I didn't know whether that meant they were only a short distance away and would return soon, or if they just set off on some foraging expedition and wouldn't return for some time and just decided to leave an open flame for some reason. I hoped for the former.
Shedding my jacket, I laid it flat on the carpets beside the pit so it could dry off. Hours of walking builds up a lot of perspiration, and a light drizzle came down from the sky a few times in the night, coating the military jacket in a light layer of moisture.
I also removed my shoes and socks and laid them beside the jacket as I flexed the sore muscles of my foot. The skin was red and a little veiny, but it didn't seem like I developed gangrene from walking for almost 8 hours straight.
The fire gave a satisfying crackle while a small breeze grazed over the red and orange dance, and peace began to return to my mind as I stared at the fire and thought back on what's happened to me.
Why did I wake up in a field?
Where in the world did I end up?
Is someone responsible for this? If so, who?
How the hell am I going to get back home? I have no money to my name and I don't think there's a viable telephone system for miles.
I wasn't about to get any answers anytime soon, and I knew this, but I no longer felt extremely anxious by these questions, just patiently desperate. Desperate for answers.
My approach to my dilemma was a lot more relaxed and thoughtful, showing how well I've taken to being basically abducted in the last four hours.
Maybe I should have been worried by how quickly I adjusted to the fact that I was almost magically teleported from my city bed to the countryside, but maybe it was for the best that I adapted to my situation as soon as possible. I mean, what was the alternative? Me crying my eyes out as I wailed for help that wasn't coming until I eventually died from tear-induced dehydration.
Morbid thought, but the truth nonetheless.
I sighed and closed my eyes, enjoying the wavering warmth on my face, arms, and chest as I finally gave my tired body some well-deserved rest. I pondered how my father was able to march like this in the army, carrying 40 pounds of equipment on his back and a rifle in his hands as he trudged through woods for days on end.
My eyelids felt heavy and I didn't want to open them again, and the carpets strewn about were surprisingly comfortable.
"Maybe I'll—Yawwwn—take a short nap..."
When I woke up, I couldn't breathe and gasped for air. Briefly, I hoped that I hadn't returned to that hellish frozen nightmare, but when my eyes flew open, I still saw trees, carpets, and a blue sky.
However, I also saw an outstretched arm and wrist close to my neck, and it was then that I realized that I was being choked.
My arms flailed to the side before grasping at my attackers limb. I attempted to pull them away from my neck, but their grip was iron-clad and I couldn't budge them at all, but this apparently made me seem like less of a threat in their eyes and their clasp around my throat loosened.
I inhaled a large exaggerated breath before coughing and wiping the water from my eyes. Their hand was still on my throat, keeping me locked to the ground as my blurry vision struggled to focus on the owner of the arm's face.
Whoever was on top of me must have been massive, as their knee was pressed to my stomach and it felt like I was being crushed by a tree trunk.
I saw three very distinct colors: white, red, and green. For a moment, I thought someone in a Christmas elf costume had attacked me, but as my vision cleared, I realized that this was far from the truth, though it was equally as insane.
"I warned you to stay away!" The voice belonged to a woman. Actually, it sounded more like it belonged to a little girl. Her voice was extremely young, yet it carried an astonishing air of maturity and confidence one wouldn't find in a girl her age. There was a careful pronunciation of words and a powerful use of emphasis that no child would have the experience of using like she did.
"Wha—cough—W-What?"
"You bandits are always causing trouble for the farm." Her grip tightened slightly, a sign that her temper was rising with every word. I had to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible before she forgets that someone's ability to breathe is within the palm of her hand.
"Was the defeat last time too much for your dumb pride to handle, so you just had to return for another chance to kill a little girl?"
Kill!? Jesus fucking- What kind of life is she living!? Also, bandits? Did I end up in some old western cowboy movie or something?
Confusion and fear go hand-in-hand, and every passing second with this girl served to increase both of mine dramatically. My sight had finally cleared and I was able to see her perfectly, but a full view of my attacker only made things worse for my sanity.
Above me was a young girl in a frilly ruffled white blouse that acted more like a short dress than an actual shirt. About her shoulders was clasped a long red coat than ran down to her knees and had an exaggerated collar that were more likely to poke the wearer's eyes out than protect them. Her apparel alone made her visually unique from most anybody I've ever seen before, but that wasn't even the most striking part.
Her hair was a bright, almost neon green color. It was kept neat with only a single stray strand towards the top of her hair, and was complimented by a set of symmetrical pigtails that rested in front of her shoulders. Not to mention her eyes were a faded purple hue, something I'd never seen in a person, even with fake contact lenses.
All in all, the initial image I had of the owner of this campsite was the furthest thing from the reality of the situation, and her peculiar outfit was only made more daunting by the fact that I recognized it from somewhere!
My hands were still wrapped around her wrist and I was afraid that letting go for even a second would encourage her to finish the job. I tried to reason with her.
"I think... I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding. Do I look like a bandit to you?"
Honestly, that wasn't a very smart question considering I had no ideas how bandits local to this area looked like. For all I knew, they could also be dorky college kids too. The chances were in my favor that they weren't, but you never know.
She glared at me and I thought she was going to dismiss my words without a second thought, but then I felt her grip relaxed and I exhaled a sigh of relief through my nose. Though I was no means safe yet.
"Why are you here?" It was a simple question, one that could be interpreted literally or metaphysically, but I wasn't about to annoy her with the meaning of life, so I gave her the short answer. She didn't seem to be in the mood for jokes.
"I was lost! I saw the smoke from your fire, like, miles away and headed here hoping to find some help."
Speaking of which, if she was trying to rid the area of bandits, why would she make herself a target by signalling her position with such a large and powerful bonfire?...
Probably not the best time to point out a flaw in her home.
She was eyeing me with a dangerous intent, and I kept praying she wouldn't say some cheesy line like "Say your prayers" or "Last words?" before crushing my windpipe, but I was surprised when I felt a sudden absence of pressure on my abdomen and neck.
She quickly stepped away from my body, positioning herself on the opposite side of the fire as I groaned and massaged the parts of my body she had pinned down. She was posed in a very defensive manner, ready to strike out at me should I make any sudden movements, even though I was now several feet away from her. It was strange to see a girl who looked almost half my age to have such a serious expression, and honestly saddened me to think of the experiences she's had having to fend for herself.
"What do they call you?" She asked without an ounce of compassion in her voice as I slowly stood up.
"Abaroa? Given by the title on your clothes?" I quickly glanced at my father's jacket and remembered the last name stitched onto the chest pocket before I leaned down and threw it over my shoulder.
"No, that's my family's name. I'm... They 'call me' Caesar." I played along with her manner of speaking—very formal and practiced—though I tried to hide my mocking tone as I replied to her question.
"And you, miss?"
"Nah."
So much for proper language.
"Alright, you're free to hide your name, I under-"
"N-No! I mean—Gah, why does this always happen to me?—I meant my name is Nah."
"Oh. Oh!"
Oh. OH. OH!
OH MY FUCKING GOD!
There is absolutely no way in hell did she just claim to be Nah!
No!
No!
I refuse to- Oh shit, she's still looking at me.
"Na- Ahem. Nice to meet you, N-Nah."