(#BBBXCOVID1920) The Final Sadist

11 || Dreams

Crowned liar. Crowned liar. He told me to be his crowned liar, she tells herself over and over again. Of course, he's the king of liars. Then, obviously, he'd want me as his crowned queen.

The fact of BoBoiBoy's sudden true show of colors drives Yaya mad for about the entire day, to the point the two never even talked until that very night. It's ruining her sanity, draining away her ease and turning it into regret and hatred on the matter.

But for now, she can't leave. She knows that to herself.

Yaya can only bother to fake a smile. Like him.

She sits on the rough stone bench by the dwelling gardens, with the sky so cloudy and mystifying. The snow has been plowed away that very morning, and Yaya crosses her legs in her simple white dress and leggings.

Her hands hesitate, but end up petting over the black panther's dark fur. BoBoiBoy had his companion come with him and Yaya. It's strange, unexpectedly turning pleasant and calm when it comes to her hands.

This panther better not be cunning either. Being with BoBoiBoy is already slowly growing into a pain in the rear.

She needs to play along if she wants to get away with her new plan.

Actually, there's no plan. Only desire.

All she can do though is run her palms through its silky coat as the panther lies on the ground, very much craving for scratches.

BoBoiBoy remains standing behind her, back again in his usual, asymmetric mess-of-a-jacket. "He isn't complacent with belly rubs all the time. Seems to just be that Ocho has a certain liking to you." She can hear his monotone voice behind her.

"Ocho?" she asks, pretending to sound intrigued.

"Mm-hmm. That's what I named him, see. His eighth toe is missing." He points to that very paw. "Ocho is Spanish for 'eight.' It was a language from the olden times, you know."

'Language from the olden times,' my foot. I just want myself out of here.

She's smart, playing and toying at the words she uses, bending her emotions to mix it with a splash of realism. "Spanish? You mean, a language they used here? Or from the East?"

The subject interests BoBoiBoy, making him sit beside her with his hands tucked in his pockets. "Actually, yes, it was from the East. I hadn't been there before, however. Though I had been to the Ruins myself. That's where I take all my books to learn," he says, lapsing back in his formal manner of speaking. "Like, did you know that, so many years ago, not everyone had the privilege to attain education? Isn't that crazy?"

Bold of you to say that, you're a walking crazy man yourself.

"Oh, really?" she chuckles. "And I thought everything was so perfect back in the day."

She moves to the other end of the bench.

BoBoiBoy can't help but laugh a bit. "Yaya, there's no such thing as perfect, even before or during the Great Spread. In ancient times, women were not allowed advanced learning. And it's interesting to know that."

Yaya's mind floats to the Great Spread. What Great Spread?

"But at least," BoBoiBoy continues. "that won't happen this time." His head turns to Yaya, and reflex pulls her to look back. Back to his eyes. His eyes stare. Only stare. "It won't be happening now, my lady, would it?"

The voice calls towards her senses, pulling her away once more. She's no longer reluctant of her actions. She knows it's wrong. But she has to play along. Only when absolutely necessary.