L'enfants Sauvages [SB vs. CoA vs. Enzo Day 6 Fight]

everything is changing
break me with that truth

Fire scorches Quest as an axe flies past her. The blade misses outright, but the small disturbance of it passing through the air is enough to topple her as if her knees had been kicked out. Violently coughing up blood, each exhalation turns to red mist in the air, bright ichor pouring from her nostrils and pooling in the gaps between her teeth. Her eyes flare as stubborn as ever, as if some part of her is determined to outlive her body — as if the next cough might send her soul flying out her mouth, like an emergency evacuation. There are stranger things in this world. It wouldn't surprise Denali if the undeniable force of Quest's will could find a way to survive even after her body falls still.

Kneeling at her side, Denali sets her still flaming knives on the ground and lays a hand on Quest's back to brace the flesh as she pulls her cleaver free, grimacing as the blade rips out with seared tissue sticking to the still hot blade where the skin and muscle cooked against the tarred metal. A few seconds pass and she leaves her hand resting on the dying girl's back, as if it isn't completely ridiculous for a murderer to attempt to offer comfort to their victim. It feels like Denali should say something, but she can't think of a word, her mouth hanging open — silent and stupid — as she meets Quest's eyes and suddenly feels just as helpless. "Don't waste it," Quest murmurs, as if she is equal parts hopeful and threatening, the words nearly lost to another round of coughing. (You better not kill me for nothing.)

Denali nods and her expression is too honest, too sympathetic for her own good. Wrapping her fingers around the cuff of her jacket where she embroidered two hands with interlocked pinkies, she grips it as if it has strength enough to share. She should stop making promises she isn't certain she can keep. "I wouldn't dare. I swear." The boy she killed yesterday used his final words to spout petty nonsense, wasting the last of his energy declaring Denali to be below acceptable standards of attractiveness. Like she cares. The Lyons girl couldn't be bothered to feel guilt or sorrow for a spiteful knuckle-dragger like Maxwell, but she feels something twist in her gut now.

Doing her best to ignore the twinge, she picks up her knives and gets to her feet, only to come face to face with Quest's allies. Realization of the situation has dawned on them too late and Denali raises her weapons in an unspoken warning not to make any sudden moves. They're both barely old enough to be here, not much bigger than her youngest sister. She can't quite place either of them, but Denali still knows one thing: this is for the best. It's good that Quest won't have to be the one to swing her weapon at their small throats. It's good that they won't have to turn on the girl who has been looking out for them like a protector. "You're welcome," she whispers so quietly that the words are nearly lost on the breeze, thinking of how Lex killed Minx so Denali wouldn't have to, of how someone else killed Wander. It's a horrible thing to say — she knows this — and certainly no words of thanks are coming her way, but it's still the least they can do for each other. The alternative would leave all of their souls searching for an escape.