Unity of the Divided

Dine With The Divine

Sunlight streams through the windows either side of my headboard, this is how I know I've missed breakfast. I bet my unexplained absence came across as really polite.

I trail my fingers absentmindedly across the sheets as I review the night before. Dancing with Destruction, definitely five stars. Meeting unnamed Watillian representative, like a minus two. Taking a step closer to death, minus ten minimum. All in all, awful.

The dance with Mr NoName creeps into my thoughts and I groan. With a level head I see now he most likely was seeking out an enemy he'd heard of but never seen. That's understandable. But to dance with me? It's too early to get a headache thinking about it.

I can't help but wonder though. Perhaps he wanted his own experience with the incredible woman that is me, a chance to make up his own mind. Then I think about what I showed him, how I began with seduction. I press my palms to my eyes. Curiosity and humour were there, a tad bit of anger too. In honesty, those aren't the worst characteristics to be associated with. Except from the fact that our kingdoms are lifelong enemies, I'm meant to be intelligent – so not dancing with the devil -, and being feared is half my personality, according to those who don't know me.

One hell of a job I've done at living up to my reputation.

Gently I pull back the cotton top I wear, lifting my head to look underneath and see what damage was done last night. In comparison to the past times, it's not so bad, I run my hand across my torso, the cold seeping out of my skin has me snatching my hand back.

My head falls to the pillows in a huff. I wonder what today will bring.

Dinner couldn't come sooner. I, am, ravenous.

With an ability like mine I can eat whenever I like, but I like to be polite and dine with the others. My heeled boots clack as I walk eagerly towards the hall. My hair is loose today, reaching slightly past my shoulders. I added two braids that join at the back, and I've woven lavender into them as a special touch.

I round the last corner and look up at the sound of another pair of footsteps. Coming from the opposite direction is Estelle. Golden eyes, silver lashes matching long silver hair swept up into a bun. I catch her eye and she sends me a timid smile.

The representative of Astrolia has always avoided me. In the deciders she does her best to prevent being my direct opponent, and outside of the trials it is a rarity when I see her. I've pinned it to postwar guilt. She was the weakest enemy I had in the war due to her not feeling that strongly towards the cause. Unlike Nen and Petra, the rulers of Watille and Earisle, Estelle had to be pressured to join the cause. The thirst for power not coming naturally.

I step through already open doors and into the dining hall, this evening only representatives and council members sit at the dinner table. My eyes sweep across the scene before me, a large circular wooden table is set, two golden lengths of fabric cross at the centre. Nearly all representatives and council members are sat by the time I arrive, everyone but myself and Des-

I feel him then and the world slows. The presence that is him is unlike any other, distinct and electric. His fingers trail across my back, arm brushing mine as he walks dangerously close behind me. My breathing stops for the mere seconds he's near, skin tingling where his breath is hot on my neck.

"Crea," he whispers in greeting, his lips a caress against my ear.

Then he's gone, walking towards his seat that's conveniently opposite mine. I'm left hoping no one saw the fault in my stride and my breathlessness at his slightest touch.

I take my place at the round table and not a beat passes before servers flood the room, eager to please. I peer at the meal plated to my right for Kallan, a mushroom based dish fills her plate, I frown. No thanks. Waving off the server leaning towards me I instead create my own meal. The judgement from Kallan is palpable, she thinks me rude. I think I don't care. She wouldn't dare comment though, content in her internal hating. I look up just to catch Destruction averting his gaze with a small smile on his lips.

People assume I make my own meals because I'm fussy, in reality it's a fear of poisoning. Not that it'd kill me, only two things can do that I learnt recently, but I'd have the most awful stomach problems. Something I learnt the hard way after Destruction thought it funny to slip something into my food one time.

I reach for my roll I've so graciously afforded myself once the servers have exited and pause.

No butter.

I flip my hand and create a butter dish, butter, and knife in my open palm then begin evenly spreading the perfect portion I made. Eyes on me has me looking up, meeting those of crimson red, he nods towards the dish. Destruction wants my butter. I stare back, hoping my features convey the really? look of annoyance. I didn't make it for you, I want to say. I send it across the table on a slight breeze anyway.

His eyes don't leave mine as it approaches, I watch as they become increasingly wicked the closer it gets, mine narrow. I'm debating what he'd do if I smashed it on his head when he makes a sudden grab for it, as if reading my thoughts. It's not in his hand a second before he destroys it, vanishing from thin air. That bastard. I scowl. He's grinning.

Turning back to my meal I decide not to give him any more of my attention. Instead, keeping my eyes down and listening to the chatter around me. I'm mid-chew when I think, these baby potatoes are divine, compliments to the chef. I laugh to myself.

"But if you were to be another animal-"

"That's like asking to switch race!"

Mara and Rowan are talking around a mildly annoyed looking Leonard, he meets my eyes and raises a discreet hand, shaping it into a mouth and mocking their conversation. I smile, looking away before my laughter slips from my lips. Those two get along like oil mixes with water, yet they're always talking – more so arguing – and the light flirting doesn't go unnoticed.

"Twit-twhoo's got your feathers in a fluff?" Mara teases, acting like the answer isn't, in fact, her. She rests her head on the back of her hand, elbow on the table, long black curls flowing way past her shoulders.

The Desllian representative on the council gave up her life in Detrixs for the position she has today eighty years ago when the council was first created. The first Divide followed a decade after.

No amount of eavesdropping and mental self-talk can distract me from the burning gaze of another. I reach for my water, hoping to sneakily see who's staring at me, most likely Des wanting to be bothersome. But it's not. Instead, to the left of Kallan, is a blue-eyed boy with a stare so analytical that I hold my head slightly higher once I put my drink down.

I don't shy away from the challenge, daring to meet his stare with a deadpan one of my own. I drop my hands into my lap, not eating, drinking, talking, just staring. This draws the attention of the others at the table but half of them were watching me already, now their eyes dart between myself and him.

The joy I get from watching him squirm under the scrutiny of the entire table is small compared to what Des says next.

"You'll make the water boy wet with the amount of attention you're giving him."

I hear Mara snigger, Cancia covers her mouth to hide her smile, others laugh quietly. Kallan scoffs, rolling her eyes, and Farlin sighs.

My eyes slide to his and I cock a brow, fighting to hold in my laughter but I know he sees the amusement in my eyes. He shrugs in a way that asks us if we really think he's wrong.

"I'm still recovering from the shock that you even showed," the representative of Earth pipes up, Petra, "and yet even now you pay us no mind."

I reach for my glass, ignoring her.

"Is mass genocide what it takes to earn your attention?"