sigNATURE -- Chapter Two

Glancing to her left, she noticed a blond boy bent over his food, shoveling the grey slop down like it was freshly baked bread. She watched him nearly completely swallow the iron spoon with each bite, amazed that he was able to pull it back out and take another bite without throwing up from the grossness of it.

Gagging, she looked down at her own bowl of grey crap and the... bread...? It could have been moldy cheese, or even crusted-up partially-baked rat. She wasn't hungry, and hadn't been since she caught a whiff of this 'food'. "My God, kill me now..." she groaned, face-palming. She heard a snort of laughter, and looked up from between her fingers.

A tanned boy with longer-than-was-normal-for-a-boy brown hair covered his mouth as he looked at her. Giving him a confused look, she glanced down when he gestured to her trailing blond bangs. Her hair had fallen into the pool of grey gunk and was now fighting to break free. As she pulled her hair out, the grey mass stretched out like sap, resisting the pull.

He giggled--actually giggled--when she made a very contorted face and pulled out her dagger. She took the hair and cut it as low as she could; she wasn't messing with this crap. It would take her days to wash it out, and the training camp didn't allow baths but once a week. At that rate... three years? Maybe? Possibly more...

"I can't believe you would just cut it," he sighed, reaching forward to touch her freshly-cut hair. Jerking away, she turned her head away from him, crossing her arms after sheathing her dagger.

"Keep your hands off. I have a very strict 'personal space' policy."

He chuckled. "I doubt you'd do anything to me," he said it so arrogantly that she involuntarily grimaced.

"Look how fast I cut off a chunk of my own hair. What makes you so safe?"

"True," he sighed, rubbing his fingers--which had touched her hair--together with a lost look on his face. "Easy to see why everyone here is terrified of you, I suppose."

Eyebrows raised in half-hidden interest, she pushed the bowl away with the tip of a finger and glanced up at him. She was shocked at his eyes. They were nearly white, and seemed to glow in the dingy cafeteria; looking closer, his eyes appeared to swarm with an effect she could only describe as 'water reflection'. She'd never seen someone whose eyes literally shimmered. Oh barf, he wasn't one of those, was he?! "What do you mean?"

"I talked to a few of your trainers and superior officers, then chatted around with several of your fellow soldiers-in-training."

"You asked around. Stop glorifying yourself," she growled, simplifying his statement since he was obviously too full of himself to do it on his own.

She saw a distinct fake smile--seemingly instinctual--cover up a genuine look of irritation and awe as it was born. "Anyways, they all said that you didn't appear to have any humor and that you--quite frankly--scared the living Hell out of them."

"Ah. Good."

"Most people would be offended." The boy choked out, incredulous. 

Pushing blond hair out of her eyes, already regretting the abrupt cutting of her hair as the strands fell back over her face, she groaned quietly. "I'm not offended, obviously. Just tired of talking," standing, she left her bowl and moved around the large wooden benches and tables to get to the exit. Pushing the large double doors open, she was very agitated when she heard the clicking of boots behind her.

"Don't mess with him,"

She was taken off guard when the blond boy--the one who was starving enough to eat something they likely used to kill rats--wiped his mouth as he left the building behind her. "What do you mean? That puny, nosy little stray? He can't hurt me."

"Hey," the blond boy shrugged, turning toward the training grounds. "When he screws you over and you're trapped in a royal prison cell, don't complain I 'left a fellow soldier behind' or any of that bullcrap."

She was surprised he didn't take the laws of the Moonlight Military seriously. She couldn't care less either, so maybe they could reach some common ground...? It was never a bad thing to practice human interaction; they could be so unpredictable at times. "He couldn't even bruise me, let alone get me arrested."

The boy stopped, turned on his heels, and walked over to her. With a sympathetic look on his face, her put a hand on her shoulder and pat it roughly, like he would another boy. "And that's why you don't mess with him. He's the kind of guy that can kill you without even touching you, and never get punished."

"A god?"

"Pfft, yeah, that's totally what he is." The boy's face scrunched up as he held back unexpected laughter at the thought. She couldn't help but let out a chuckle herself when she imagined the wiry brown haired boy in a holy-white rob, arms spread wide to the heavens. Suddenly, the boy stopped laughing. "Hey, you smiled."

"What?"

"You just smiled. And laughed. Well, at least I know you're actually a human. I was beginning to think you were some kind of undercover sigNATURE, if you could imagine such a thing," her body froze when she realized two things: that was a dangerously accurate assumption, and he was judging her expression for a reaction. "Damn. I can't read you at all, blondy." He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Here I thought I was pretty good at that."

"Not good enough," she hissed quietly, putting her hand on his chest and shoving him backwards. He stumbled, and as his hand left her shoulder it dawned on her that he was far better than she had originally assumed. He had touched her, and she hadn't even noticed. 

Glancing back, she caught his gaze as he winked at her. In his eyes, much of her unapproachable shield she had formed over the past few months faded miserably into disintegrating ash. She needed to keep an eye on him. A close eye.

*****

"I'm out..." she sighed loudly, flicking her pipe about lazily, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs as she tried to get more comfortable. A young white haired man appeared, smiled and gave her a quick bow, then steadied the pipe with one hand as he tapped more Vigrante leaves into the pipe with the other hand. Bowing again, he stepped away from her and resumed his place by a stone table carved out of the cave wall. Adjusting maps and tools, he titled his head and began his work again.

Touching parted lips to the metal, thinner tip of the wooden pipe, she inhaled slowly, her eyes fluttering as the heavenly taste filled her senses. There was no addiction or 'high'. It was simply a herb. Almost like a tea you could smoke, she supposed. This was always how she rationalized why it was healthy for her to smoke. It wasn't very good of her to smoke so much--she went through nearly a pound of the ground-up leaves a day--but it was still healthy to a certain point, right?

"The human settlement Violet Rose has grown, Alpha," the white-haired man whispered as he drew another line across the map. "They've began to push up against your territory."

"Mmm," she could only grunt, twirling the pipe around her so that the smoke left a pretty trail in the air. "I suppose..."

"You suppose...?" She glanced down at the quiet inquiry, a white-haired man utterly identical to the one by the maps, as he massaged her feet and lower legs. He gazed at her with loyal, unquestioned interest, eager for action and command.

"She may suppose we go to war," yet another identical man sighed, pouring her a glass of herbal wine in an elegantly carved stone cup.

"War?" Two whispering voices chimed, coming from identical twin girls with long black hair. They lounged on the floor atop a pile of pillows randomly thrown about, close to the cave entrance. Each brushed the other's hair in unison, neither expressing much emotion.

"Perhaps..." she sighed, inhaling the smoke once more, puffing the green-tinted fog toward the man at her feet. She shifted again, turning so that she lay on her belly. She needed more animal skins on this blasted couch...

"Perhaps...?" The white-haired man asked as he handed her the wine. She took it, swirling the pale yellow liquid around with an absent look.

"Perhaps she shall observe and gather information?" The man by the maps asked softly, drawing another line.

"Information," the girls whispered, setting the brushes down at the same time, falling backwards with hands clasped to settle into identical positions. Even their hair was eerily mirrored in appearance, down to the strand.

"But most likely..." She sighed again, turning over on top her side as she sat the wine down on the floor without drinking any. She man who had handed her the wine smiled faintly, falling gently to his knees on the floor as he began to comb her long white hair. 

"But most likely..." he purred, closing his eyes when she distractedly pet his head.

"Most likely she shall see how She handles it," the girls sang, their wavering voices never reaching above a faint rasping. The man by the maps grunted, drawing a final line.

"The humans are screwed," he said bluntly, pushing his bangs out of his face. The other two triplets nodded in solemn agreement.

"Definitely screwed," they murmured. She smiled, inhaling from her pipe again. The sweet, sharp taste made her vision buckle and swirl, urging her to let her eyes slowly close.

"Mmm," she sighed, turning over a final time before sleep took her once more. The last thing she recalled was happily agreeing with their opinions.

Most certainly screwed... What an interestingly human-like thing of her to think.