FALLEN WARRIORS

IV: Of the Night

04;
OF THE NIGHT
Kansas―Carry On Wayward Son

              Ilithyia grumbles out a string of offensive profanities under her breath, but loud enough for Jorge to hear that causes him to pointedly look at her and scolds sternly for her to 'watch her language'.

"Swearing is not going to help us getting out of this tunnel anytime soon, chica." He warns as the Subjects lean by the wall of the underground tunnel, their breaths heavy and uncontrollable due to how long they've been running. Minho though doesn't seem to be as exhausted as his friends.

"It's that son of a bitch Barkley, I knew it." She groans, kicking a small stone from the ground, it flies and disappears further into the hall.

"I'm going to ignore such abhorrent words but yes, it's gotta be him." Jorge throws a glance at the annoyed dark-haired girl, before staring into space where the hall stretches deeper and further.

Ilithyia bites down a furious scream, instead, she groans and settles herself on the ground, her back leaning against the wall of the tunnel. Her eyes are closed, her chest heaving and falling quickly out of rage.

"What the shuck was that?" She hears Minho demands cholerically, an angry frown appearing on his face as his eyes dart angrily between the, he so believes, Cranks.

"Would you just shut your flapin' mouth for once?" Ilithyia snaps from where she sits, legs being brought up to her chest where she has her arms placed on top of her knees. She hasn't opened her eyes as she talks to him, not exactly planning to look at his irksome face in such short-term notice after the explosion.

"The tunnel almost collapse on us," he's persistent, Ilithyia notices. Only makes her despises him more. "We almost died. We could've been crushed! Dead!"

"What? You reckon Jorge and I did that?" By now, Ilithyia has opened her eyes. She's fuming, her hands clenched as she stares at Minho in incredulity. "Do you actually think that we planned that out?"

"Oh, I don't know, princess," he scoffs, feigning a confusion as he taps his chin with his slender finger as though he's thinking. "First you want to cut off two of my shucking fingers then you're feeding us. You're Cranks, am I supposed to trust you two? Then the next thing I know, we almost got crushed by the freaking tunnel! You two were acting, weren't you?" He lets out a humourless laugh as Ilithyia continues to watch him with a blank look. "I should've known that we're not supposed to trust you. What did I expect? Barbies and King of Spain―"

In a flash, Ilithyia has gotten on her feet. Her hand grips the leather hilt of her sword tightly until her knuckles whiten, pointing threateningly the end of her deadly weapon close towards Minho's chest. "I suggest you shut your fucking mouth before I slash you to pieces."

"Hmm, I always like feisty ones. Irascible one, aren't ya?" Minho's own hand inches to the machete on his shoulder belt. He slips the machete off its sheath and collides it with the longsword, pushing it so the edge of the sword is no longer pointed at his chest. "You shouldn't have given out your weapons, sweetheart."

"For the shuck of―Stop it both of ya." Newt's brogue accented voice stops as he and Jorge make their way towards Minho and Ilithyia. Newt tugging on Minho's arm while Jorge lowers Ilithyia's arm that's holding the sword. "Fightin's not gonna help us either, alright?"

"Shut it, limey." Ilithyia's violet eyes snap at the English boy, "I'll gladly slash you too if you're going to meddle into my business with wimp over there again."

"You b―" Minho takes a threatening step forward but to have him stop by Newt, who holds out his arm in front of his leader, preventing him take another step closer to Ilithyia.