Faith [2]
Pancakes and the Urge to Kill
Ririe
Yet again, Faith opened her eyes only to see darkness. She was somewhere cramped, and could barely move an inch. Pressed against a door, Faith felt a number of brooms and mops pressed up against her back. The only available light poured in through the gaps in the door.
After a moment of panic, remembering the unconscious stranger she felt a rush of anger at Pierce.
Did he just save their lives only to drug them unconscious?
And what was he planning to do, leaving her trapped in this closet?
“I’m not sure if that’s going to help,” Said the man pressed up against her, back to back. Faith twisted round as far as she could and came face to face with the Red Stranger.
“Wha-what are you doing here?” She stuttered.
“Name’s Elijah, you?” He said, extending the tips of his fingers in a form of a handshake.
With squinted eyes Faith returned his strange handshake, “Faith.”
“Hmm, you don’t seem like a Faith-” Eli began.
“-How did we get here?
Who are you?
Where are we?” Faith bombarded him.
“How about first we try getting out of here?” Eli suggested. “Try listening against the door.”
With what little room she had Faith bashed on the door, with her knees and clenched fists.
“Or use senseless violence, that apparently works too,” he remarked.
A shadow blocked the light coming in from under the door as the sound of footsteps approached on creaking floorboards. A male voice spoke through the door, slightly muffled.
"Ok, ok I'll let you out but you've gotta promise to listen to me."
Faith considered this for a moment, inhaling and exhaling a thoughtful breath. The door opened, Faith immediately falling face-first in a tangle of mops and brooms. She brushed away the hairs of the mop and glared up at Pierce, watching her with a frying pan at the ready, wielding it like a sword.
With a huff Faith jumped to her feet into a defensive stance. The two ever so slowly circled each other, never taking their predatory gaze off one another. Whilst circling, Faith made a note of her surroundings. A living room of all places, drenched in warm morning light pouring through a giant round window onto the leather couches, a wooden-island-kitchen ornamented with bowls of fruit and a black-silk running and a black metal round table and chairs.
Pierce went in for a swipe but feinted, causing Faith to scuff her boots on the wooden floor and squinted her eyes in irritation. With her back to the kitchen island she backed up subtly and rolled backwards at an angle and landed on the other side of the island and snatched and wielded a pan that had been sitting on the bench.
“Why the fuck did you knock me out?” She hissed.
“Maybe if you calmed down and let me explain…I could explain!” Pierce snapped. Faith grabbed a fistful of flour from the sack sitting on the bench and tossed it into his face, sending him spluttering.
“Explain now!” She said, leaping up and onto the bench and launched an assault on Pierce, who defended himself, the two fencing with pans and righteousness. He backed up and Faith jumped from the bench and the two fought, pans clanging and clashing as they battled like true swordsman.
“I’m sorry if it seemed a bit brash, but I didn’t know if I could trust you!” Pierce blurted, his dark chocolate eyes turned maple in the sunlight. At that, Faith’s teal glare softened and her anger subsided for but a moment. Then she remembered he’d knocked her out.
So she lunged.
“So you lock me up in a cupboard with some random guy?” Faith hissed, swiping this way and that in an almost wild manner. Pierce seemed to be done with trying to calm her, and with one swing knocked the pan from her shaking, gloved hands. For a reason she didn’t know, Faith felt her heart thud rapidly, faster than it should of, and her breath became shallow and quick. She felt her legs shake and buckle and began to fold just as Pierce swung the pan, most likely trying to make her back up…instead, it connected with her head and knocked her out cold.
Faith, sprawled ungracefully on the floor held her consciousness for but a second, long enough to hear Pierce say, “Oops.”
~ ~ ~
For the third time, Faith regained consciousness. When she opened her eyes, they felt almost glued together. She lay in a white-linen bed, her trench coat, gloves and boots removed. Orange light flooded into the quaint bedroom, a door leading to a hallway and other to a bathroom. Drowsy and feeling almost hollow without her anger, Faith began shift and rouse her self. Until she noticed the man laying casually beside her. Her heart leapt into her throat, seeing Eli laying there, his legs and crossed and arms folded behind his head.
“Good morning idiot,” He smirked.
“Don’t do that!” Faith snapped, ducking under the covers, Eli following.
“Do what?” Eli asked, his head cocked in an innocent, puppy-like manner.
“Scaring the shit out me!” Faith said, shoving a pillow in his face.
Before Faith could smother him to death, a knock came from the hallway door. As Faith sat up, a girl – no, a young woman entered the room. Her skin was the color of coffee, and her hair an afro of raven hair and eyes the shade of burnt caramel, warm and sweet. At a loss for words to describe her, she was simply…beautiful. Faith would’ve felt a twinge of jealously if she wasn’t overwhelmingly confused about everything.
She carried a bundle of something in a white blanket and a tray of pancakes and a glass of milk in the other hand.
“Hey there, name’s Cash,” She smiled a perfect smile. Cash set the tray down on the blanket covering Faith’s lap and the bundle of blanket on the bed. Faith peered at the bundle, and tugged at the blanket, revealing the purple-furred kitten she’d saved before. He mewed adorably, and nibbled at the blanket with needle-like teeth of a healthy young kit. At that, Faith couldn’t help but half-smile.
She looked to the tray of pancakes decorated with a smiley-face and the words, sorry, written in honey, and looked to Cash with a raised eyebrow. Cash sat cross-legged at the end of the bed, barefoot and wearing an over-sized male black shirt gave a sheepish shrug and smile.
“Pierce wanted to say sorry for knocking you out again. So, he fed the kitten and made pancakes. Yeah…I know, the only way he knows how to say sorry is to make pancakes.”
“Why exactly did he knock me out?” Faith asked, taking a sip of the milk.
“Didn’t trust you, I suppose. Obviously didn’t want to leave you for dead either, your friend is also fine, he’s sleeping downstairs on the couch,” Cash mentioned.
Faith took a moment to consider this, and gnawed the tip of her thumb, feeling a sudden wave of shame at her anger before. Then, she remembered Eli, and snapped her head to the left of the bed and found that he was simply…gone.
How?
“Why trust me now, then?” She questioned. In reply, Cash reached under the blanket and took Faith’s left hand and presented it to her. After a second of puzzlement, Faith’s breath caught in her throat. A strange tattoo wrapped around her hand, a mysterious tattoo of an archaic stained-glass-like painting of a sun on her palm. The rays of the sun spanned her fingers, shades of orange, yellow and gold.
“This. Pierce said it was a symbol to be trusted…whoever may possess it,” Cash said, circling the sun with her thumb.
Faith continued to stare, the orange light flittering through the open window causing the tattoo to almost glow.
“I can’t remember…” She whispered under her breath.
“Hm. Well, for now, I’ve left you some of my clothes to change into. And, ah…there’s a bath through that door just there, so…” Cash said, drawing out the o in so. She flashed a nervous smile and left, Faith noticing the hilt of a switchblade producing from a leather sheath strapped to her thigh.
As soon as the door clicked close, Faith tore into the pancakes, gulping down mouthfuls of milk in the process. When she was done, Faith wasn’t sure she’d felt more complete or content in a long time. She sat top the blankets, (quickly realizing she was without pants) and dipped a finger into the milk and offered it to the kit. He squeaked and nipped and licked her finger happily, so much so he opened his eyes. At that, Faith couldn’t help but admire the perfect honey-amber of his eyes. She was so infatuated with the strange creature Faith didn’t see him tip the glass over onto the tray and drink the remaining milk.
She sighed and said, “Ha, you little maverick…that’s what I’ll call you. Maverick.”
Eli had elected to disappear again, and for a long while he remained so. Faith even checked on the other side of the bed, and beneath it, just to be safe, and found nothing. She peered past the white-curtained window and out into the streets below, and found a lively, bustling town of tradesmen, common-folk and bounty hunters alike. From the looks of it, the new townsfolk had built atop the ruins of long-abandoned town, and given it life again. It was charming and homely, in its own right.
Faith decided to follow Cash’s hint and take a bath, as she really did smell like ash, smoke and sweat. She peeled off her sweaty white tank and discarded her smallclothes on the tile-floor and soaked in the warm waters, almost feeling like she could dissolve into it. Even though her memories evaded her, (no matter how hard she tried, it felt as if she was trying to push past a brick wall) her own body held clues as to what might have happened.
The soles of her feet were hardened as if after trekking long days over difficult terrain, and there were welts and sores on her ankles as if they’d been rubbed and bumped constantly from wearing shoes and traveling over a long period of time. Her nails were chipped, cut and had been caked with dirt and stained, and her hair withered and frayed as a lack off care.
And not to mention the bruises, cuts and sore all over her body, (and the healing riding sores on her ass.) Faith could also feel where powerful muscles might have once been, such as the shadow of the six-pack down her abdomen, which must have considerably weakened, amongst her other muscles, due to malnutrition and serious deprivation of sleep.
She’d also noticed, in the mirror over the sink just across from the bath, of the four faded, pink marks on her back. Two sat on either of her shoulder blades, the other two a few centimeters below. Another four stretched down her spine.
“Curious.” Faith sighed absent mindedly, sliding below the surface in an attempt to drown her thoughts away.
~ ~ ~
Cash had left her a black undershirt, a pair of shorts, a black, leather, sleeveless corset, clear floral stockings and ankle-high laced boots. Faith combed a hand through her white hair and scratched her black buzz cut, and wondered what was to become of her. The clothes felt a tad tight, but it wasn’t too surprising considering they were meant for someone twice as small as her.
As she combed her hair, Faith pondered just what that sun mark was, the strange disappearing boy that showed up whenever he fancied, and where exactly her memories went. And how in the Forgotten World they were all connected. There was no escaping any of it, and it tied her stomach into knots whenever she dared try making sense of it.
Her heart nearly leapt into her throat once again when another knock suddenly sounded. Maverick, curled up in his blanket mewed softly.
“Ah, come in!” Faith called.
Her stomach elected to do a flip when she saw Pierce in the mirror, opening the door.
“Uh…sorry again, about knocking you out…again. How’s your head?” He asked, his arms folded, leaning against the frame. Faith couldn’t help but notice he’d actually changed his shirt into a thin, linen yellow-white V-neck that hugged his wide-collar bone. The idiot had fashion sense.
Faith pressed a hand against where he’d landed the blow, but found no sensation or sign of bruising. It didn’t even hurt in the slightest.
“I’m fine…thanks. I ah, understand why you had to knock me out, though-” Faith began.
“-And I get why you were so angry. Sorry, I just had to take the precautions,” Pierce interjected.
After a moment of silence, Faith opened her mouth to speak, to ask after his knowledge about her mark, when she was interrupted by a young blonde haired man appearing behind Pierce. His mop of straw-colored hair was drawn back into a bun, the stray strands parted in the center to curtain a sharp, youthful face and tempered hazel eyes.
“Yo…your husbands waking up,” He said, on his tiptoes to crane his head above Pierce’s shoulder.
It took Faith a second process this, and she quickly changed her look to a look of shock and excitement. The three hurried out of the room, Faith scooping Maverick into a pocket at her side, they rushed down the hallway and downstairs into the living room. The man with auburn hair lay there, his hair tussled about and positioned in an awkward position you could only get in if you were an experienced sleeper.
Faith had practically flown down the stairs, but when she hit the landing, she noticed the other four people standing aloft around the couch, and every step she took seemed to be all wrong and her feet felt uncooperative and made of stone .
A tall (not quite as tall as Pierce, Faith wasn’t sure if any human being was possibly as tall as that lumbering giraffe), youth, limber in stature with hair white as snow and eyes that of ice so cold it froze the air around it stood by another youth about half his height, small and weak looking, with freckles winning the war on his face, his giant glasses similar to Pierce’s yet they were lop-sided and seemed too big for his face, yet the red strands of hair dangling in front of his cobalt blue eyes looked to be just as much hindrance.
Behind them, a young, blonde girl leant against the wall, her skin a yellowish complexion and splotched with lesions, she chewed on her nails and watched the scene unfolded before her. Cash sat on the arm of the couch, and gave Faith a small smile.
“Well, you’ve already met Cash. This is Colton,” Pierce said, motioning to the straw-haired teen and smiled sincerely, and Faith offered a half-smile.
“You can just call me Colt!” He said, picking her up in a hug and squeezing her closer than she was comfortable with (which was a decent meter distance.) He set her down and introduced the snow-haired man as Aster, the short redhead as Taylor, he made eye-contact with her for but a second, only to look to the floor. Colt mentioned the blonde girl’s name was Sunny, but she’d already left the apartment, desperately scratching at the skin on her arms.
The auburn-haired stranger grunted, and Faith cautiously squatted by his side, the others forcing themselves to take a step back.
“W-what’s your name?” She whispered under her breath.
His face twitched and he shifted, and breathed out, “Roth…”
But, the second he opened his emerald eyes, they dilated like that of a cats, and he lunged at Faith, slamming her into the glass coffee table, glass shattering and slicing into her clothes, biting into her back, his hands wrapped around her throat and a wild, vengeful look in his eyes that screamed for her to die.
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