Chapter#7; The Battle Invite
1564 Words
“Leila! Leila!”
She turned to see Odin running in her direction, heaving.
“Oh, hey Odin. What are you doing?”
She maintained a stoic expression on her face.
“Dolores... wanted me... to tell you... that we’re having a recontre with The Frantic School System. She wanted you on the team.”
Her face fell from a stoic expression to a slight frown.
“I’m... not interested.”
“Why not?”
“Just not.”
“But you’re the best fighter at school…”
“You’re good too..”
“And Aibek didn’t bust up my arm.”
“Aibek did that?”
She felt a sudden pang of regret burn in her heart.
“Why?”
“He’s Moroccan and I’m an Albino. Not to be racist or anything, but he’s pretty messed up.”
“What does he being African have to do with the attack?”
Her nose scrunched up like a cotton t-shirt when he stumbled the physical appearances.
“His culture has this stupid myth that killing people like me brings good luck.”
“Anyone can believe in a myth, heritage or looks have nothing to do with them being straight-up idiots. Don’t justify it with features.”
Walking along the pavement with him, she kicked around a loose bit of concrete to prove her point of common sense.
“Recontre. You in or out?”
They had their little edification whilst dancing around the dilemma, but Odin still had his goals spelt in mind.
“Out.”
It would still take more than common sense to convince her, however.
“Whyyy?”
He whined like Adawna would when it came to homework, closing any sympathy she had led astray.
“Just don’t wanna.”
She pouted like Adawna would’ve, making it crystal clear that she doesn’t owe Dolores any favours.
“Aibek’s not on it anymore if you’re worried about him.”
Wait, What?
“Cobren’s a good fighter.”
“Yeah, but he’s also a murderer.”
“But he’s also persistent.”
“Can you stop trying to justify Aibek?”
He snapped at her with no prior notifications.
She glared at him momentarily, before turning her head away and covering her face with her hands.
“Sorry. I know he’s no angel, but I guess I’m still not okay with him turning so suddenly.”
“Oh, no I get it.”
He shrunk back, guilty as charged, as the pace of thier footsteps quickened. They shared a moment of awkward silence. He opened his mouth to reckon with, but stood there, gaping, before turning his head away.
“I’ll join the team.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to.”
“No, I will. I’ve made my mind.”
“Well, I’m not telling Dolores.”
“Don’t. I’m no damsel in distress.”
“That’s why I asked you! It’s no tea party…”
There was a certain trace of exhausted desperation in Odin’s voice.
“Well, good. I’m going and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ll tell her tomorrow at school. يوم سعيد سيدي”
“It’s Saturday tomorrow, good luck.”
A friendly competition of sarcasm sparked between the two.
“Oh yeah, forgot about that. Well, I know where you live.”
“So does Aibek, what’s so special about you?”
“I’m not trying to kill you?”
...
“Fair point.”
.
.
.
“You’ll be fighting twice this time, Leila. First in a sword duel then in a bokator match.”
Due to recent events, there weren’t many willing participants for the upcoming Rencontre. Not many people partake in such pastimes, and even those who wish to aren’t usually willing to give up their elegance and grace. In prior circumstances, Aibek would’ve been representing Comradery High in the sword duels with Leila, while Odin would be in Bokator and Adawna Ma’a in the general blades’ quiz.
“Who’ll be covering the quiz thing?”
I hear you and Leila ponder simultaneously.
“Mel will try her best, but unfortunately her best is our best.”
“Not surprising considering that thing’s mostly for nerds…”
Dolores gave her a demeaning askance before glancing back at the sword. Leila’s face lit up for some unusual reason.
“Can I use a weapon during the bokator match?”
Her voice was filled with incomparable enthusiasm.
“No. The whole point of separating the two is so that you can’t use one during the match.”
The enthusiasm instantly washed away. She was disappointed, but not surprised.
“Let’s start by reviewing the fencing basics, which will serve as the basis for the duel.”
“No one cares about those in an actual duel.”
Dolores shot her another askance. Her posture was loopy and signaled exhaustion, almost as if she was already over this before it even started. She had her arms and shoulders let loose.
“Fix your posture, little miss!”
She came over and started messing around with Leila’s posture like the controlling figure she was. She dictated every little thing she fixed about it as if that would help jam it into her system.
“Shoulders strong,”
She started, pulling back her shoulders from behind her.
“front foot facing dead ahead and maintaining social distancing with the other,”
She used her heel to place Leila’s boot in the right direction.
“while both being bent as if they’re the perpendicular and hypotenuse in the Pythagorean theorem, got it?”
She assumed the beef-witted fighter would understand even a word that she said after the shoulders instead of letting it all fly over her head.
“I sometimes forget how much sword fighting is actually fighting with you…”
She glared at her a third time, this time it sunk a little deeper thanks to her elevation compared to the fencing stance Leila was forced into.
“Tone should match the environment and situation. A serious tone for a professional or serious environment. Understand?”
“Yes miss Onyx…”
She weakly groaned, as Dolores herself, this time, resorted to rolling her eyes in disapproval.
.
.
.
“—and remember. The s***h may look cool and all but ensure to make use of the other moves such as the thrust. Oh and don’t forget about the lunge, it’s pretty useful. Alright, that’s all for today, Thank you Leila Ma’a and I hope we can meet again soon. Goodbye.”
Finally. She thought the boreism would never be over with.
Leila never really cared for professionalism, even more so after Adawna’s leave since it showed her that unpredictability can’t be sugar-coated with good vocabulary, at least not all the time. The cherry on top? There was no one to push her to such an extent at home now.
She now found herself frowning on the trek to her humble, torrefied, flat that she called home. No one would be waiting for her there though, every natheren was an orphan, it’s not like anyone’s willing to keep a moody adolescent with monsterful abilities in the vicinity.
The ears are easily ignored before the oldest is cursed... er...blessed with unique abilities. After that? No one knows, or more accurately, remembers. None of them do. Probably why it’s never brought up. They do manage to make ends meet after all the drama they can’t recount, however. The only real problem in some cases is keeping all the drama hidden.
“Leila! Leila!”
Ugh...not again. She had to admit, the siblings had striking similarities. In their annoyances, that is.
“Good afternoon Miss Onyx…”
“You can drop the formality, you’re not in a classroom right now.”
Good. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep at it.
“You Should lighten up, Leila. You know, have some fun, live a little, like you used to…”
“Used to also had once upon a time Dolores.”
She couldn’t help but emphasise her titles at the moment.
“And once upon a time’s also have happily ever after’s.”
“Not necessarily.”
“But the fun’s in working towards that happily ever after and enjoying the moment.”
“Nothing’s fine.”
“Who said it was, or even has to be? As your teacher, I want the sprightly student back. And as your friend, well, I just want to see you back to the way you were.”
“Friend’s a little controversial... buut... I’ll try my best.”
“That’s all I am entitled to ask of you.”
... وعود كاذبة ...
12th April 2021, Monday.
Dolores;
Leila’s lost her little light. Just a while ago she was the perkiest fighter. Now she’s just an empty husk of a human. Natheren, but like, still mostly human.
There’s a recontre with TFSS in a bit. It’s just me and Evander from there handling the whole thing. It’s making me a little jittery, handling such a big affair mostly by myself. Hey, I had to do it at some point, right? Why not now?
I’m the oldest natheren I know. It’s bothersome, knowing that you’re not ‘#relatable’, but I guess everyone’s like that, just in their own ways.
- Writer
