The White Angel's Prayer

08. Chinks in the Armour

Death had been a constant factor in Lucy's life. From her very first breath to her very last, it would be the only definitive; a shroud of the unknown would forever haunt whichever path she dared to trek, but the presence of death would always be a certainty. Some had accustomed to considering it a friend, but Lucy had yet to see the appeal in befriending the entity that stripped her of her very being, kissing her skin with promises, only ever grazing by to befall those that surrounded her.

From as early as she could remember, Lucy had watched everyone else die. Executions in the street were commonplace, and though her mother had attempted to censor her from such confrontations, the nature of the New World necessitated harsh truths. Though terrifying, Lucy had come to accept the normalisation of death. She'd only realised FEDRA's tyrannical ruling when she eventually made it to Des Moines because everything in between only served to substantiate the way FEDRA handled their citizens. But even under the illusion of safety, death always found a way to put her back in her place. If it hadn't, she didn't believe she'd be here.

Today was another reason why Lucy hadn't befriended death. It would be easier to accept that dying ensured an eternal rest, but she couldn't. Perhaps it was an innate sense of selfishness because each death was another step closer to being alone. She hated to admit she'd advertently escaped this destiny. For a while, Attenborough had been her armour. From one covering to the next until she fell back into Bhu'ja's arms.

And for a split second there, Lucy thought he had died. When he had suddenly disappeared right before her eyes, she was paralysed with fear. A sequence of events had followed, ones she was sure death had personally sent himself to finally claim her amongst his own. But they had both escaped. Again. Each narrow miss was only angering death, and she dreaded to imagine that the rat king hadn't been his final soldier.

Bhu'ja knelt in front of her. Lucy gently treated the gash in his thigh that had steadily bled the entire journey through the tunnels. It hadn't been long, but the structure had been unstable, close to collapsing while neglected. It led up into what appeared to be the backstage to somewhere. They hadn't explored the entire building, but they had found a dressing room that they'd blocked with a chair.

There was nothing either of them had to wipe away the blood that had dribbled down the expanse of his muscled thigh. Lucy had opted to use one of the costumed shirts that hung up on a dusty rack at one end of the room. Its unusual bubble-gum pink colour was covered in splotches of fluorescent green. It had been discarded off to the side once Lucy started gently applying the blue gel. She'd been directed to use a needle with a substance that would apparently sterilise the wound beforehand.

Bhu'ja kept a hand on her lower back. His touch was grounding. It reminded Lucy that it wasn't a ghost that sat across from her. He could have died had he landed wrong. It was a mere stroke of luck that he hadn't, that he'd been a few centimetres to the left. The thought occurred to Lucy that Bhu'ja potentially may not be the one death sought. He had played nearly every card in the deck to isolate her, and she'd avoided each curve whether by luck or choice.

It fell silent once Lucy was done. She wiped her hands on another costume that she'd brought over. They didn't leave each other's presence. Bhu'ja stared down at her, his amber eyes soft and observant. He could see that something troubled Lucy, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what. He still wasn't proficient in talking through feelings. He'd learnt a lot from his mother but applying it was a different story. It had taken a lot of guts to open up the first time.

But Bhu'ja's worry was for naught.

"I thought you died," Lucy said quietly. She feared if she spoke any louder, someone on the outside would hear them. Despite the fact they'd found a location G'kuhto didn't know about, it didn't feel like any weight was off their shoulders yet.