Damon isn't really my cup of tea, romantically speaking. If I fell for anyone based on looks alone, though, it'd be him. His dark hair is perfectly messy, framing his strong jawline. Chiseled features paired with his penetrating, cat-like stare make him damn near irresistible. He's like a different flavor of Vexx. Both share an aura of danger and mystery, exuding that specific, deadly charm, like a warning label on a hazardous package. Their camaraderie raises eyebrows. They've known each other for a long time, their banter fixed with a deep-seated understanding and mutual respect. When pressed about how they met, Damon sidestepped the question artfully, his smile hinting at something sinister. "Let's just say we've shared some… interesting times. We have a shared passion for the thrill of the hunt." The evasive answer serves only to fuel my suspicion.
I've grown close to Damon over the past few months, our synergy is undeniable on missions. When I was first paired with him, I was pretty upset. Why him? Calderon had all but pawned me off on Damon, and I can't help but feel like he's distanced himself from me now that he knows my true identity. The sins of my father. Before Vexx crash-landed back into my cognizance, I found my focus drifting towards Calderon. Blondes usually aren't my type, but there is something about him that is immensely alluring. I think I have a thing for authoritative men; the way he barks out orders stirred something in me. I'd let him put me in my place once, and I would have been open to letting him do it again in a different way. That night on Teranium, the night I first saw Vexx, we actually had a moment together at Oppo's club.
"You're shivering," he said, voice low and gentle. I recalled the way he handed me his sweater, how it lifted up his undershirt as he took it off, revealing what I could have sworn were 8-pack abs. Someone whistled. Not me, of course not! But… someone.
"That girl over there," I pointed lazily behind him, my face aflame with both lust and embarrassment.
"Right," he said with a knowing smirk. "Keep it, you might need it. You shouldn't have to be alone on these cold nights." I giggled at the innuendo. "That's — ah. Shit. That's not what I meant!" Gods is he adorable when he's flustered. He's impossibly tall, with broad shoulders and delicate features adorning his cherubic face, a powerful mix of yin and yang. As he turned to go to the bar, I had to steady myself on the wall. — how had I not noticed that ass before? Calderon was quite the specimen. I joined him, he handed me his drink. "Try this," he commanded, as he signaled for another. It was delicious. Unlike Damon, this was a man who knew how to enjoy life, or at least, a good drink. The Blushing Siren, sweet, tangy, and as vibrant as the sunsets on Teranium on any given summer day. It was a bit of a girly drink, if you can imagine something as simple as a cocktail having a gender. "I thought you might like that," he grinned, all traces of the stern captain I'd met a week prior completely wiped from his face. There's a softness behind that rock-hard exterior. I sighed. Those rock-hard abs.
Our legs brushed under the table, sending a tiny thrill through me. He eyed me cautiously, as if there was something holding him back. Yet his crinkled eyes and warm smile betrayed his trepidation. His hand brushed mine, a question waiting to be answered. I don't pull away. "You know, I didn't… peg you as someone who drinks," he says, leaning a bit closer. I'm really not, or wasn't? The stress of having my entire family murdered in a military coup has taken its toll on my would-be sobriety. Of course, I didn't know that just yet.
"What do you mean?" I flutter my eyelashes at him, oh-so-innocent.
He chuckles, his breath tickling my ear. "You just don't seem like the… adventurous type." Our faces are mere inches apart, the tension between us is palpable.
"Well, I could be," my voice is low, and as seductive as I could manage. I'm making a fool of myself. His gaze dropped to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he'd kiss me. He hesitated, and looking down for a moment.
"Raina…" his eyes searched mine, as if he was asking for permission. Yes. He pulled back suddenly, clearing his throat. "Another round?" he asked, voice gruff and stern. I nodded, trying to mask my disappointment. I gave him a sidelong glance as he ordered our next round, wondering what just happened. I probably looked like an eager child. Great going, Raina. I'm just barely 19, did I really think he was gonna kiss me?
A nagging voice in my mind taunts me. Calderon's interest in me had dropped sharply after Vexx's appearance. Perhaps I haven't done the best job of concealing my feelings for Vexx, and who could compete with a fiery, enigmatic boy with malintent? His arrival seems to have awakened a spark within Calderon, leaving me to wonder if I'd ever truly held his attention. Regardless, the sweater is mine now, a tangible reminder of our one sexually-charged moment together. He's not getting it back, not unless he asks real damn nicely. When he first gave it to me, he did say I could keep it. I stop for a moment. He knew then, didn't he? I remember our conversation before we disembarked in Nos Vega. Calderon knew who I was pretty much the entire time, I suddenly realize. Is that why he didn't kiss me? He told me, maybe some memories aren't worth remembering. I had no control over the memories that lingered, hidden in the recesses of my mind. They will resurface if they want to, but I hope that one never does. The thought sent a pang through my chest.
Why did I have to cross paths with Vexx that night at The Arc? Once I saw him, I couldn't see anyone else around us at all. It was just him - an invisible collar buckled tightly around my neck, leash held in his hands, unknowingly. Who follows strangers into the night, anyway? If I only hadn't, I could still just be me, just Raina, not, Raina Peg'asi, the 11th child of the dead king, with the dead wives, and the dead children. Foolish optimisim had me believing those memories would remain buried, anyway. Ryona has told me that if I don't regain all of my memories in time, the Tilaari could help me, but I'm not sure I want that.
I've been trying my best to avoid Vexx ever since we took him prisoner, making it a part of my to-do list each day. Make my bed, cook us breakfast, drop his off with Ryona, clean the galley, make more food, clean the galley, target practice with Ryona, see if Calderon or Damon need any assistance, tidy up my quarters, avoid avoid avoid Vexx. Check check check. I wasn't always successful, however. Calderon had wanted to get rid of him permanently, but I begged and pleaded and offered to cover his meal ticket. I think it was really only that last point that convinced him. I remember Vexx's favorite breakfast food is bananas foster waffles. We were at a cafe when he ordered them, the memory is as fractured as my first attempt at making those very waffles, actually. I can't place it in my mind, was it later on in our friendship, was it one of our first outings? It was early in the morning, we picked a cozy booth, no wait. Was it the barstools in front of the sunlit window or? I don't recall. I think we were people watching. Vexx would make up little stories about almost every single person who passed by, and he'd try to do little voices for each one. They all sounded comically similar, but he was so funny. How can this be the same guy? I wonder if he's done those types things with someone else, since… me. My mind recoils, but I calm myself with the reality of the situation. He's had little time for romantic entanglments, considering he's been scampering around the system, picking off innocent people left and right. How comforting.
Caught still in memories of our whimsical day at the cafe, I decide to personally deliver his breakfast this morning, instead of leaving it to Ryona as I usually do. Vexx leans against the cold metal of his cell wall, eyes fixed on me as I enter. "Bananas foster, your favorite," I say, attempting indifference.
A hint of a smile splays on his lips. "You remember?" His voice is low, husky.
"Don't read into it," I warn, handing him the tray. I linger for a moment, then turn to leave. I'm not going to watch him eat like he's my pet, but he'd look damn fine in a collar.
He calls out my name. "You still owe me a rematch at Galactice Conqueste 3 - Cosmic Horror Derakuse." My lip twitch, betraying a smile. Galactice Conqueste was a poorly translated arcade game we'd play when we got the chance. It wasn't until the 4th entry in the series that the localization team changed hands and updated the name to Galactic Conquest, but I prefer the retro charm of the older versions. I remember we quoted and misquoted them all the time. All dat ass are belong to me. Our ridiculous sayings evovled into something else entirely over time, a language only we understood.
I snort at the memory, lips twitching into a wide smile I have no hope of hiding. "You'll be waiting a while, Lieutenant." Lieutenant Serif - a title I'd once used with sarcastic affection. It was his official title, and what I was expected to refer to him as, given he was my royal guard, but I never said it without heavy sarcasm. I openly mocked his authority, and I think he liked it.
I return in the evening with a meager dinner resembling what I think one might call Zha'thiku Surprise if they were feeling generous. Ayame's guidance in the kitchen has been invaluable, but more often than not, our limited resources often turned her intricate recipes into an improvisational game of "Substitute This!" Damon is the resident baking wizard around these parts, and Bash and Ryona's collaborative cooking adventures were the stuff of legends, filling the ship with mouthwatering aromas that made this particular sad attempt of mine even more painful to deliver.
Aya, however, offered encouragement. "He'll love that you even tried, I promise." As a fellow Kitalphan, she shares stories of our homeland, weaving tales of vibrant night markets and family gatherings centered around tantalizing meals. I don't know much of my heritage. My mother didn't really share much with me, so Aya's anecdotes and traditional recipes became my window into Kitalpha's rich heritage. "You know, Raina, on Kitalpha, we had this dish called Zha'thiku - a delicate balance of flavor and textures. You really should use white pepper for it, but black will have to do. Oh oh and toasted sesame oil! But.. uh. Vegetable blend will be fine. My mother would spend hours preparing it for special occassions, but there's a simplified version you can make in just an hour and a half!" I can't believe I spent all this time on this dish only for it to turn out looking mostly edible.
"Just tell me if there's anyone following us, carrot head!" Damon's voice booms through the makeshift cell we keep Vexx in, and something inside me snaps. Without even thinking, I storm into the cell, shoving Damon aside. The heat of one thousand suns spreads throughout my body, starting in my chest. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Vexx Serif? " I used his full name. You in trouble now, bitch. His lips form into this awful sneer, eyes wide; he looks possessed. The air around us ignites, fueled by twin rage. Gone are the two friends from earlier, caught up in pleasant memories of each other. A white gradient fills my peripherals, giving me tunnel vision. All I can see is his face. "You don't fucking scare me," I hiss at him. Easy bravado, considering he's restrained. I look down at the dinner tray I'm holding. " I don't give a fuck what happens to you, but if this ship goes down, you're going with it. You want to know the funniest thing about all of this?" I lower my voice and try to regain my composure. Calm down, Raina, don't give in. Don't say that. I launch the tray at the wall just above his head. It looked gross anyway. "You thought I cared about YOU? Some piece of trash off the street who fancied himself a guard. And you think I fell for you? Scum like you cozying up to a royal. I bet you thought you were so clever, manipulating me back then, too stupid to map out the tunnels yourself. You thought you were gonna waltz in here and play me again. You disgust me. I started to feel bad because I was just using you, my ticket out of the palace. I would have acted the same with anyone else. " I laugh maniacally, viscous glee filling my sternum. I can lie, too, you piece of shit. I feel… high. Like I could rip his spine out of his back through his ribcage, each little vertebrae making a satisfying plop! as it breaks through the sinew.
The look on his face is seared into my memory — My words trail off, silenced by the pain in his eyes. I can't forget that look, ever. The atmosphere shifts, my blurred vision clears. I exhale, and static fills my ears. My legs tremble, threatening to buckle beneath me. I feel like I'm going to pass out. Something primal took over me just now. I was helpless; I couldn't control myself as that torrent of emotions ripped through me. Helplessly, I watched myself unravel, words spilling from my lips like blood from a wounded soul. I can almost hear my heart splintering into millions of tiny shards. I press my hands to my chest, as if my heart might actually shatter apart and rip through my body if I don't hold myself together. Damon is looking at me like I've finally impressed him. Figures.
Minutes tick by in painful silence before Vexx breaks the tension. "There's no one following you. I'm sure of it." I say nothing and turn around and leave, with Damon following closely behind. Vexx calls out to me but I can't will myself to turn towards him. He slumps against the wall, eyes vacant. "Raina," he sighs, voice barely audible, as if he's breathless. He struggles to speak, an odd gurgling emanating from his throat. Blood starts pouring out of his nose as if from a faucet. I scream out for Damon to get Ryona as I attempt to stop the bleeding. "It's happening again," he says incredulously as he looks at his own blood on his hands. Ryona rushes in, eyes wide at the gruesome scene, going from Vexx's blood-stained face and clothing to the mess of food scattered across the wall.
"He just started bleeding out of nowhere," I hastily explain.
"Raina, I remember now," his voice weakens, going limp in my arms.
The three of us manage to hoist him onto a cot for easy transport to the medical bay. Ryona wastes no time in cauterizing his nose, stemming the bleeding. As she works to stabilize Vexx, Damon's gaze lingers on him, a mix of concern and perhaps something else. The sincerity in his eyes spreads over his face. "Heyyy so—" Damon starts.
"Don't." I snap, turning to face him. I want him to take me seriously, for once. He likes to push things too far with me. Usually it's just harmless flirting, but sometimes, he just doesn't know when to stop.
His expression turns serious. "No no listen," he says hurriedly. "Vexx has been acting strange. Possessed, like he can't control himself," Damon tells me. "Sometimes, he looks like he's in agony when he's just trying to speak. I think Ryona should run some tests. He's always been weird, but not like this."
I've noticed that myself. I nod, recalling his erractic behavior. "He vascillates wildly from one extreme to the other, then acts like he never knew you at all," I confirm. "I think they did something to him, Raina," Damon looks at me with a tenderness in his eyes that I'm not used to from him. I collapse into him, desperate for human contact and comfort.
He pauses, then wraps his arms around me as I exhale deeply. "We'll figure it out" he says, his lips brushing against my hair.
I return to my room after a time, the soft hum of the ship's engines providing just enough white noise to placate me. I try to shake off the day's residue, steeling myself for tomorrow's challenges. I can't get the image of Vexx's face out of my head. Gushing blood, that twisted scowl, and the hopeless look he had when I told him I didn't care about him. I grind my teeth as my jaw tenses. Raina, I remember now. His words ping around in my mind. Remember what, though?
I take a deep breath. Damon and I have an important mission again tomorrow, one that requires my full focus and determination. I pull on a knitted cardigan from my closet and wrap myself in its warmth, finding the soft mohair to be a fleeting solace. The mirror in my small closet reflects a haunted expression. Dark circles outline my eyes, my skin is deathly pale — I look worn down and used up. With a sigh, I begin to untangle my hair, the gentled motion of the comb soothing my frazzled nerves. I slide into my unmade bed. The stars dance outside my window, fading into darkness as I drift into a dreamless sleep, a temporary reprieve from the mess my life has become.