Those Who Fight!

1. Allies (N' Enemies Too)

Violetta'd never been one to give up easy, but in that moment she realized she was probably gonna die. Huh. Go figure.

Her eyes were fixated on the dark mass o' nothing that was the bottom o' the fountain she was currently drowning in. She knew she'd hafta breathe at some point, but she just couldn't do it. That'd be accepting defeat, or even worse, her own death— she wasn't gonna do that. N' yet here she was with her head held underwater n' nowhere else to go.

The single arm that held her there was surprisingly strong given how skinny it was. Letta's free hand (meaning, the one that wasn't aggressively trying to push herself back up) still groped frantically for it, though this wasn't much help either. Dammit, there weren't even s'posed to be people up here!

Then there was the muffled sound o' her assailant's voice, then— air. The young girl gasped in as much as she possibly could, her lungs burning as they inflated to their capacity. It still wasn't enough.

"You little bitch!" hissed the young woman's voice, tearing outta handful o' pale lilac hair as she released her grip. Letta collapsed to the ground, wheezing, unable to get enough o' the precious oxygen. Of all the things she thought she'd be grateful for, the free air was not one of 'em.

As soon as her mind could focus on anything other than the fact that she could breathe, she leapt to her feet, but no sooner'd she done this that black spots danced 'cross her vision. She drifted back down to the cobblestone, still heated by the summer sun that'd only recently set.

"Are you satisfied?" the voice pouted, but it wasn't directed at her. Immediately the girl's hands shot out to cover the important bits. Her hazel eyes blushingly flickered up to this new subject; a woman, not a day over thirty with cropped dark hair a particularly unique shade of red. She moved her hands in a very specific, slightly angry kinda way, n' Letta had no clue what it meant. Outta the frying pan n' into the fire for her, maybe.

The younger woman rolled her eyes n' turned back to the pathetic girl, saying, "She wants to know your name."

"Maybe ya should've asked me that before ya tried to kill me," she shot back. Maybe that wasn't the best idea, but Violetta wasn't known for her superior judgement. The other glared at her with a fury hot enough to melt ice.

"It makes no difference now!"

The woman behind her noisily cleared her throat. She was yet to say a word, Letta noticed.

She let out a puff of air; this woman cared enough to save her life, but not enough to speak to her? This evening was getting weirder by the second.

"My name is Allysiana," her adversary said bitterly. Allysiana. What kinda name was that? She wouldn't name her dog Allysiana.

"N' I'm Violetta," she replied. Maybe she wasn't one to talk. The newly identified Allysiana (long n' irritating— it fit her.) turned back to the other n' signed something. Letta was starting to get an idea o' what the stranger was up to. The woman signed back, n' once again Allysiana turned back to the naked girl on the cobblestone.

"She wants to know how you got up here," she interpreted. That was an easy one.

"I climbed?"

N' for some unexplainable reason, that was the thing to set Allysiana off again.

"You trespass in the court of Lady Diadem!" she snapped.

The adrenaline rushed back, or maybe it never left. "What, no! I'm just tryna bathe!"

What was a diadem?

Allysiana threw herself into a fighting stance for the second time that evening. "How dare you desecrate this place?!"