Fourteen

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I won't deny it, I'm shocked.

One moment I was swearing my ass off just to piss off Evangeline.

The next, she had stepped forwards and I had my lips lightly pressed to hers.

Finch makes a fanboying noise, while Goodie and Kev chant 'OTP'. Even Trixie's grinning, which creeps me out, since she only ever smiles when she's torturing somebody, or when she's laughing randomly.

I facepalm, and Evangeline flushes scarlet next to me.

Trixie breaks the tension by laughing, and I'm grateful.

"T...T...Trixe, you stop t...that," Angel stutters.

Trixie grins like the insolent maniac she is. "No, sweetie, but you and Orson should kiss more often." And with that, she starts cracking up again.

Huuh. She's hopeless.

I grin awkwardly at Evangeline. "Well, Angel, at least you're a half-decent kisser. At least compared to Jezebel, and I swear she was trying to bite my tongue off half the time."

"Shut up, and don't speak ill of the dead. We don't need any more bad luck."

"Technically, or at least, according to Amber, she's alive and out there somewhere."

"You're impossible."

Hair slick. Eyelash flutter. Voice three octaves higher than my usual tone. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Trixie bursts out in a fit of giggles again.

"Trixie, you f...uh..." Angel moans.

"Look," I sigh. "I'll say the swearwords if you pat my shoulder, okay?"

Evangeline nods 'thanks'. "Trixie, you're a-"

"Motherfucking bitch," I say upon getting patted.

"Stop it or your..."

Pat.

"Ass."

"...is going to get it," Evangeline finishes.

"You're ho-mo-sex-sho?" asks Goodie.

Cue Trixieish laugh.

"Goodie!" I wail, facepalming so hard I'll need the hospital later.

"Because Miss Evanilla wants to kick...no wait, Mr. Trixie is a boy, so..." Goodie is confused, and it's cute.

I sigh. When will he ever learn genders? He's seven, for fuck's sake!

-----

"Truth or Dare, angel cake?" I smirk.

Night has fallen, and Angel, Kev, Finch, Goodie and I play Truth or Dare. Even Trixie joins in.

"Dare, sugar pie."

I open my mouth to speak, but Finch beats me to it.

Um...shit?

"I dare you to kiss three people of your choice, and rate the best kisser and the worst kisser."

Evangeline groans, but she's choiceless. She kisses Trixie, and we have to postpone the game due to Trixie reasons (she ran after Evangeline with a sword, and Evangeline had to run for dear life). Kev and Finch both have to calm Trixie down.

Moving on. Angel kisses Goodie, and turns to me again.

Fuck.

Fuck her.

Fuck Finch.

Anyway, we briefly do...the thing. It's quick, though, and I feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Best kisser award goes to Trixie, because she's just...you get the idea," Evangeline announces. "Worst kisser award goes to sugar pie, since he's got the smelliest breath."

What?!

"Evangeline, stop bitching and be serious!" I shout.

Angel looks at me, mock innocently. "What did I say?"

I sigh and facepalm. "Angel!"

"Stop it!" she yells, leaping to her feet.

What is going on?

"Angel, you're crazy," sighs Kev.

"No! There!" she shrieks, throwing a knife.

We don't really care until someone screams, and we whirl around to see a wounded Shiram.

Fuck. Battle time again.

Through this entire quest, I'm barely aware of what we're doing. All I know is trek, camp, sample and fight. Nothing else.

I am so confused.

But I can't show it in front of an entire army of Satanists. Now is not the time.

I grab my sickle and battle cry, slicing through whatever that is in front of me, while yelling, "What the heck is going on?"

"I don't know!" Angel replies, thrusting a knife.

God, this quest has been so predictable, and I'm still confused!

I mean, this makes no sense at all! What's the point of our current quest? What are we even doing? And why is Trixie captain? I understand she's possessed by a Changeling, but how are we still alive?

Mindlessly, I charge into battle.

I've never fallen in battle before. I'd never think that it would be so agonizing.

I'm face-to-face with a girl in Amber's state. She uses a long, crescent moon blade, and she's better than I am.

It doesn't take her long to disarm me, and when I pull out my spare sickle, she slashes, and I'm forced to duck. Her blade cuts right through mine.

My friends see me. They scream and panic. Evangeline is the only one who actually does something. She jumps behind the girl and sticks a knife in her back, but it passes right through her.

Oh shit. She's literally unbeatable.

I'm thinking hard. How can she be killed?

Blades- no. Drowning- probably. Starvation- most likely. Collision- hmm.

I take a few steps back and run at my enemy. She does the same, and she passes right through me, stabbing me in the waist in the process.

Fuck. I might have hurt a major organ or something, because I feel woozy. I think I'm going to die.

"Orson, you need to sit down!" Kev yelps at me while I shake my head. I'm dying anyway, so I'll make the most out of it.

"No, white boy," I snarl at him, picking up a sickle on the ground. "Not this time."

Clutching my side, I stagger into the open. It seriously hurts like nothing else, and I wish that the pain would just go away.

My agony only seems to add to my battle lust. I slay more than I've ever did, but my mind wanders.

What will death feel like? Will it be painless, or will it be a final moment of pain and terror, and stop all of a sudden, leaving the blood pounding in my ears?

And more importantly, what will they do with my body? Will they hold me a funeral like how they did for Jezebel, or will I be taken simply as a trophy by the enemy? I wish to be cremated and scattered in the wild, but I doubt anyone will know.

Pro tip, kids, start writing your wills now.

I'll do mine mentally.

My iPad and cell phone go to my parents, I guess. My entire fortune, about thirty golden coins, goes to charity or somewhere along that line. I don't own anything much apart from that.

My memory goes to everyone I know, I think as I'm too exhausted to even stand anymore. The sickle clatters out of my hands. I hope I've served my life's purpose. And my love

I feel myself crumbling like a leaf, and I'm blacking out.

My love goes to you, Evangeline Youngspire.

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