𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄, apply fic

𝙫𝙞. the assassin's blade

TW // knife, blood, vomit

( ARIA'S POV )

"IT'S A KNIFE."

     An hour or so later, with the group all settled, our focus immediately shifted from the river incident to the mystery sitting on the palm of my hands.

     The handle was a deep red, with a gold lining where it met the silver. Thin trails of brown and beige laid on the leather. My reflection was barely visible on the rugged, smooth surface of the blade. The pointed end stretched longer than your household knife, and the metal felt cold— but mystery and motives run deep. Any assassin would be delighted to get ahold of it.

"What's a knife good for?"

"Murder," Peter stated bluntly.

Haven took the item off my hands, examining the blade the way you would when staring into your lover's sparked eyes. Invisible waves travelled from her head into mine, igniting the desire for an adventure— a calling.

     "We should test it out," Miren suggested.

     Issac motioned to a pile of mushrooms and berries. Haven held the object as a weapon more than a tool— because, you know, food comes to life as monsters sometimes. She amused me.

And the sarcasm was rubbing off on me. Great.

     The blade rested on the middle of the fungus, which Haven carefully pressed down and glided towards herself. Except, like most worn out, household cutlery, it failed to create a slit. No halves were formed— rather, the supposedly sharp metal touched the mushroom and created a temporary parting, which hadn't last 5 seconds.

"This shit show is a hoax," Giovani commented. I remembered seeing him behind a tree of ashes, and the hesitation in his voice as I walked into the picture. The trauma he had every bit of trouble telling me about. He endured a moment of that— for what? For us to be led deeper into the garden until we lose our minds?

Maybe, actually.

"This has to be a sick joke. What in the name of all things holy is this?" Haven added.

Nayari managed to keep herself from fuming. How does she have an endless supply of happiness and endurance in her 5 foot 3 tall body? She could do wonders to the world with that. But judging by our reactions— if she can't change the way we responded to the situation, then there's no hope.

Mateo's expression started to shift— an emotion I hadn't seen him wear since yesterday. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, and in a desperate attempt to hold it in, he pushes his hands down over his mouth, concealing the heaviness caught in his throat, itching to come out.

     Haven takes a quick glance at him, and for some odd reason, offers to toss the knife at him. I didn't quite understand her ideas of comfort— but they both clearly knew each other long before this group was formed.

     Mateo reaches out to catch it, assuming it would he harmless due to their tests— but the blade ultimately takes a turn for the worse, searing through his right palm, and breathes out the word SHIT, hearing the curse so loudly it rang through my ears.

Haven was mortified, but Miren was horrified. She gagged more than once, before releasing the result of her stomach twisting onto the greener part of the grass. I immediately slid my jacket off my back, with the help of Issac, and rushed towards Miren. Peter and Nayari proceeded to rip off a sleeve, using it as a bandage for the terror residing on Mateo's hand.