ᴍᴏᴏɴʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀꜱꜱᴀꜱꜱɪɴꜱ「 ˢᵒʳᵘʸ ᵛˢ ˢᵒᵏᵉᵉᶠᵉ 」

12 [hostility]

If Sophie was being honest with herself, she never thought she would see Keefe again.

And she'd mentally made peace with that, although she never said it aloud or to anyone.

Biana finding the shirt she kept when Raynne sent it to her was a miscalculation because she should have burned the bloody thing.

Keefe left her.

Why did she care if he was in trouble or not?

He left her alone, and scared, and with virtually no way to ever find him again.

But here he was. In front of her with a smirk on his face like she just found out a secret after all this time.

The same smirk that stood unchanged from the day they met—and she wasn't talking about when she got lost after breaking that bottle in alchemy. She was talking about when she—Nyxen—met him in the hallway running from his father.

That smirk used to make her happy, even happier than when Fitz would give her that movie star smile. She felt nothing now.

Maybe disgust?

"Even I don't have to be an empath to feel that hostility." Ruy muttered with a small laugh.

Hitting him over the head, Hazyll glowered at him. "Could you for once read the room and shut the hell up."

"I am reading the room, that's why I said it."

"Dios mio, no literalmente, you estupido." She cursed in spanish.

"English."

"My Gods, not literally, you fool." Hazyll said, irritated, her Spanish accent still really thick.

Sophie gave her friend a little smile.

In the memories she'd regained, which obviously wasn't all of them, she'd gotten a good sense about how much of a pest Ruy Ignis was—is.

"Woah, Foster, I just got hit with a big wave of bubbly feelings." Keefe jokes.

Snapping her attention back at him, she just glared.

"And the animosity is back." He muttered. "Just...look at my memories Foster—I'm sure we'll meet some sort of understanding then."

She studied him, he still had his smirk, but for some reason she could see past it now. What used to be a solid brick wall mask all those years ago, was withered down to a fence that could barely pass as anything shielding.

Her eyes found Gisela—his mother, whom she was very close to in her memories—and she just nodded, her eyes filled with a somber expression that Sophie couldn't read.

Looking Keefe in his icicle eyes, eyes that once used to be her favorite color, she timidly, slowly, placed her hand on his temple. The feeling was how it used to be when she would comfort him, but that warmth felt cold and uncomfortable.

His hand found her's and massaged her wrist, as he gave her a hopeful smile.

"Sophie is going to kill me," was the first thing she heard when the memory began playing, "oh I screwed it up this time and she's never going to forgive me."

But she doesn't understand, hells he didn't understand.

When he woke up from the coma, everything had changed, not just his abilities, but it was like something in his brain switched on.

And he kept getting these flashes of this blonde haired glittering gold eyed—or was it cerulean—girl. But it wasn't Sophie, no this girl was different.