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#1 [Private] An Odd Meeting [Kalista] on Wed May 23, 2018 5:17 am

JSanders

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Quincy
Quincy
“You have got to be kidding me.” Clara spat, voice like acid rain as she stared down at Charlie’s quivering figure, molten-gold gaze ablaze with fury. She was loomed over the smaller man, foot placed squarely on his chest, Reiryoku coursing through her fingertips as if to prepare a Spell.

“How did you even…” The white haired man tried to speak, to sit up and rationalize away what had happened, but the Sorceress pushed him back down with enough force to let the man know that he ought to remain where he was. Her hands were trembling; it was as if every inch of her body was aflame with anger. He’d lost it. All of it. All their supplies, all their money, all their clothes, all their food… The fucking idiot had lost all of it!

“How.” The young woman demanded, ignoring the sounds of the forest around her as she stared into her friend’s eyes with barely controlled wrath. “How the fuck did you manage to lose all of our shit? Huh, Charlie?” The man tried one more to rise, but Clara pushed him back down. She didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not from him.

“Come on now. Tell me.” She wanted to kill him. She wanted to slide her foot up to the smaller man’s neck and push down on his throat until it was nothing more than a bloody pulp on the ground. He deserved it, for losing all of their supplies. He would have likely lost the Grimoire too, had she decided to leave it there with him like she usually did. She could do it. She should do it. It would be so easy, just to take this boy’s life and move on. So easy. So easy…

The sorceress closed her eyes; air flowed into and through her nostrils in deep, shuddering breaths as she reeled the anger back into her heart, shoving it and her desire to murder the only friend she’d ever had deep into the recesses of her subconscious. Or, rather, that’s what the shrinks she’d been forced to go to back in New York had said she was doing; pushing back and bottling up every emotion to avoid some past trauma. Not that she believed any of that crap, but their explanation of it was the only one she had, so that was what it was. At least until she found a reason that didn’t sound like a bunch of psycho-babble.

After a moment, her foot came off of Charlie’s chest, and she proffered a hand to lift the man up; he took it without a word. She tried to smile at him, tried to reassure the man that it was just a fluke, that she was still alright and that her programming hadn’t kicked back in. All she was able to muster was a weak grin, and Clara could see that it meant nothing to the man. He was hurt. Not physically, but in another way. She had scared him, scared him more than she’d ever done before. And that scared her.

She couldn’t lose him. Not Charlie. He was the only one who knew her, the only person she trusted. The only person she cared about, other than herself. He’d stuck with her all these years, stayed by her side through the craziest of times; they had fought and bled and nearly died together more times than she could count. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not without a god damned fight.

“I’m sorry Charlie.” she whispered, her thin arms reaching out to wrap around the shorter man’s torso as he tried to walk away. “I’m so, so sorry…”

After a moment, he spoke, voice hoarse with sadness. “I know Clara.”

I know.
_______________________________________
They’d spent the rest of the day gathering supplies; most of it they’d managed to scrounge up from the forest (water from the a nearby stream, meat from a deer, enough sticks, twigs, and dried up leaves to make a decent sized fire), but some of what they needed couldn’t be found out in the wild. In fact, most of the things they needed to survive (a tent, sleeping bags, matches, ect.) would have to be stolen from sporting goods stores and the like and, while that wasn’t difficult for her to do, it was annoying having to rifle through shelf after shelf looking for the exact make and model of tent, sleeping bag, and proper sized box of wet-light matches. Not that they really needed matches when she could summon a fire breathing dragon on a whim (or just light the fire herself), but Charlie liked having such things, and she wasn’t about to argue with him right now. Not after what had happen earlier.

Which, unfortunately, meant they had to get some money so they didn’t have to steal anything. Well. Except the money. They were going to have to steal that. A lot of that. And that was why they had come to this very popular coffee shop (or at least she thought it was something along those lines… her Japanese wasn’t perfect); to get some money, preferably without causing too much of a riot in the process., though that was always up in the air when it came to these places. Especially when they were as packed as this one was.

There was barely any room to stand, let alone sit and relax while you had whatever the hell it was they served at the place. If it wasn’t for all the damn people, she’d thought about getting a cup of their house special stuff as a sort of half apology to Charlie, but this… this was just ridiculous. At least she was taller than everyone else, if only by a few inches; she’d have hated to wade through a crowd like this one without knowing where she-

It happened faster than she’d thought possible; a hand, pale but otherwise healthy, flashed across her chest, sliding along her entire upper torso before shrinking back from whence it came. Did someone just… They had. Someone had just fucking groped her. In the middle of a store. In front of at least fifty people. With Charlie not ten feet behind her.

Without thinking, Clara reached out in the direction the hand had come from, her right hand grasping the shoulder of the first person she could reach. He was pale, just like the hand had been, and looked almost charming but for the nonchalant half smirk that was plastered over his stupid face. The words came out before she could think, every fiber of her being pounding with embarrassed anger as she half-screamed at the slightly shorter man. “Hey, asshole. Do you like groping woman in public, or are you just fucking stupid?”
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