Blue Butterfly | Amajiki Tamaki

| 31 |

2nd POV

The sharp hiss of the bullet sliced the silence.

... Yet nothing hit you like you had anticipated.

The bated breath you had been unconsciously abstaining for so long wedged past your lips in a flutter of relief and utter shock, your arms and legs trembling uncontrollably from the terror you were caging in. You broke out in cold sweat, shuddering to the bone on the spot. Frantically, you heaved—gasped desperately—eyes splayed wide open and nostrils flaring, sucking in gulps of air.

A noise sounded from behind; supposedly a gasp from Glitch but you drowned every cacophony ringing in your ears and stared at the ground, suppressing the wave of nausea clobbering you. You barely missed death. That fact and the gut-wrenching flip in your stomach rendering you speechless and disorientated. Your vision was slowly whitening, disheveled hair clinging to the sweat pouring down the side of your face.

Your father pulled the trigger, didn't he?

Yet... why didn't anything happened?

What on Earth happened... ?

Tumbling to the ground while hacking vigorously, you felt your heart stir and thrash against your chest, the beat drumming in your ears. Glitch's iron grip on your arm had wavered due to her surprise, her body moving lithely into a stance; alert and guarded as she narrowed her glower toward the source of interruption.

You barely heard her mutter, "What the hell is that guy thinking? He's got a death wish."

'Who are they talking about...?'

"What the fuck, Vindhel?" King bellowed, his voice grating and harsh. He threw a nasty glare over his shoulder, his [e/c] eyes piercing a pair of silver in the fading moonlight. "Why did you stop me?"

Your eyes blew broader at the sight, your voice hiking in your throat. 'N-No way... Why?'

The shadows that were once motionless on the ground spiked upwards in long tendrils, binding around King's arms and legs in place. One thin wisp had acted swiftly in time to jerk and flick his wrist upward, changing the trajectory of the bullet to the sky. It was a loud shriek that shattered the dead silence of the night, overwhelming the cackling of the belching fire.

The flames began to diminish slowly, orange wisps fading into the opaque darkness shrouding the area and licking away the abundance of warmth it provided. Tension and sheer coldness swept in like an unavoidable storm.

'How interesting,' Sol hummed delightedly at the outcome.

'Who would have thought, out of all the people to oppose King, Vindhel would be the one?' He contained an amused string of chuckles, his steel-blues flickering at the appearance of the cloaked figure. 'He almost never shows himself to us like this... Though, he is closer to the boss than we are, but I'm curious to know—'

Sol smirked impishly. '—your intention in doing this, Vindhel.'

Dark blue wisps flitted in the cold fervor of the night breeze, Vindhel's hood buffeting backwards to reveal his face. He was fairly young with chiseled features, but the irritation boiling inside of him sculptured his face into a menacing scowl; his jaw rigid and eyes slit, making him appear slightly older. His hand was revved in front of his torso, keeping King rooted to the ground and his arm pointed upwards to the clear opening above.

The pistol was completely cupped in shadows, blocking the muzzle with ball of threaded tendrils. A single glance at the lethal weapon caused bile to spike at the back of your mouth, swerving your head to the side in disgust. To think you were face-to-face with it a couple of minutes ago—practically having faced danger head-on without batting an eyelash.