Lilac & Spades

"Language" -- Ace

"Magic," I muttered, forcing myself to shut down, erasing all input until my head cleared. I took several deep breaths before opening my eyes to the lady in front of me. Atlas, and she explained everything. She was studying me with slightly unnerving eyes, a perfect mix of amber and green. Her mulled wine hair fell slightly in her eyes before she tucked it behind her ear, and I could help but notice how pretty she was. Shut up, don't focus on that. We looked pretty noticeable, coated in drying blood, and our clothes torn. I didn't even have shoes on. I'm sure we looked homeless, to some extent. I'd used my jacket for bandages, and the red on white stood out.

Atlas' dress was torn, but she had little to none injuries, except for her face, which I had messed up pretty bad. I'm sure she had bruises concealed by the fabric of her dress from my fists. I didn't regret it, and I felt a small smile play at my lips as I evaluated the damage I'd caused. Take that. I was still feeling bitter at her for those knife wounds. I mean, stabbing me? I was very surprised we didn't cause more of a scene.

I pulled my sword out, ignoring my aching knuckles. I'd need to wrap them later, but I focused on tracing my finger of the patterns etched in the white metal. I stole it, directly after my parents died. It belonged to a powerful family. My anger made it easy, I regretted their deaths. I wasn't using any of my skills for the honor my family wanted for me, but what could you do? Pain was so frequent for me I almost didn't notice as a new wave washed over me. It was weird how I used to be a pleasant kid. The old me, always looking as nice as possible, smiling at everyone, actually happy. Not needing anything to fill the holes punched through me. I might have missed that kid at one point, but now, I wasn't sure.

The sword was unique, with white metal forming the blade with black trimming the edges. The hilt was what made it so fascinating. It had stitches in it that rubbed against my hand every time I fought with it. They cut my hand open all the time. I turned my palms facing me to look at the callouses, the gashes that covered them. Hands that had held pain. I kept using the sword, something about the pain feeling free. Eventually, it stopped hurting me, and I never questioned why. I guess it was magic? I looked at the cuts one more time before clasping my hands together, trying not to picture the scars that dotted the rest of my body.

I looked to meet Atlas' eyes. "Okay, magic. Where do we go from here?"

She shifted her eyes away. "I'm not sure. We'd have to find some way to break the barrier. If we ever want to go separate ways again."

I scoffed, "Count me in." There was no way I'd be stuck with this psycho for much longer. "First things first. We eat."

She rolled her eyes. "Obvious."

I continued, "Then we clean up. New clothes, maybe a shower? I know a place." A waitress brought our food--I think her name was Fawn--and winked at Atlas. I picked up my fork and speared a strawberry. Atlas nodded and began to eat. "So," I focused on the bruise on her chin. It was easier than her eyes. "What's your story Lilac?"

She sighed, "None of your business, oaf."

I grabbed a piece of bacon. "Fine. And it's Ace."

"Excuse me?"