Darling Belle

One

DARLING BELLE

PRESENT

       Black smoke billowed throughout the room, hanging over the vaulted ceilings like a thick fog. As the crackle of vigorous flames rose into the air, the sputtering of the inferno was a harmonious ballad to their ears.

The perpetrator smiled from afar.

SEVEN YEARS AGO

       Little Maisie tugged at the hem of her Ma's skirt, feeling minuscule before the other children who were pulling on their fencing lamés.

"Can't I hang back with you, Ma?"

Ma smiled. "No, Peach."

"I don't want to be a peach." They bruise too easily.

"Well, fine. Pearl," she teased, pushing her onto the mat. Young Maisie huffed.

No, Ma. Pearls are too delicate.

She looked ahead timidly as the instructor approached her, handing her a foil. Adjusting her fingers on the hilt. Glancing up to see if she was holding it correctly, the girl caught the eye of a dark-haired boy from across the mat. He smiled at her with dimples. Maisie suppressed a shy grin, unable to look away.

Ma came up from behind her and modified the mask over her face. Obstructing her view.

The boy tugged down his own mask.

"En garde, prêt, allez."

PRESENT

       Attack. She lunged forward. The end of her saber landed right above the opponent's heart.

"Halt," issued the captain of the fencing team with a steady tone.

Their heads whipped to the voice, Daichi Miyamoto stared back at them with dark eyes. Arms crossed over his chest.

Raegan lifted up her fencing veil slightly; her tawny cheeks were now visible, along with a few loose curls hanging over her amber eyes. "Well? Is she in?" she inquired eagerly.

Daichi glanced at Maisie; she felt strangely vulnerable beneath his deep gaze, even though she still wore a face covering so he couldn't see her. But it was more like he looked right through her. It's deathly quiet. Until it's not. He nodded. Living in the moment, she let out a whoop of victory as Raegan laughed.

Maisie took off her mask, cool air hitting her face, her loose ponytail that was once shoved in, coming loose in a matter of milliseconds. Honey-blonde tendrils of hair spilled down her back as she tugged off her left glove and advanced toward her rival.

Offering a hand. Shaking the competitor's hand after combat was basic fencing etiquette after-all.

Raegan scoffed as she took it, gripping tight. "I can't believe you called yourself mediocre. You tricked me."

Maisie winked. "Did I?"

Raegan cracked a smile, backing away. "I was going easy on you anyway," she whispered.

"Yeah, yeah. You said that two rounds ago."

Raegan playfully rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Meet me outside after you're done changing. Our luggage will be arriving soon," she explained, heading into the locker room for 'official' fencing members, which was really just a closet Raegan had claimed as her own.

Maisie turned to leave, the restroom across the hall being the destination she had in mind.

"Graham."