Both burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the ice. Yet, as the laughter faded, another feeling seeped into the space between them, something heavier, more electric. Their breaths came quick, eyes locked in an unblinking stare. Slowly, almost unconsciously, their faces began to draw closer…
Whatever that was to happen, Simma might have accepted it with closed eyes, but then....
"Are you guys okay?" Lucy asked as she glided towards them, her heart racing. her voice shattering the moment
Simma and Sarah jolted upright in perfect synchrony, as though caught in an act they hadn't decided on. That was when Simma noticed his hand was still resting firmly and comfortably on Sarah's waist. Heat flushed his face as he released her at once.
"Yeah… yeah, we're good," Sarah replied quickly, rising to her feet. Simma followed a second later, awkwardly brushing frost from his sleeves.
Lucy's eyes moved from one to the other. The way they glanced at her, then immediately avoided each other's gaze, tugged at her instincts. Something was… off.
"Isss… everything okay?" she asked, dragging the words out, her curiosity sharpening.
Sarah arched an eyebrow and propelled herself forward on the ice. "Yeah… just need to take a break."
Lucy shot one last questioning glance at Simma, who merely shrugged, muttering something that might have been,
'mpm.'
…..
They sat now in the raised spectator wing, two rows above the rink, watching others glide with effortless grace. Lucy sat between them like an unspoken barrier. The air felt heavy with the residue of that moment, an awkwardness that clung to the space between glances.
Just as the atmosphere was tense, so was Simma's thought. Heaved down by series of contemplations, and twisted feeling.
He didn't need anyone to tell him the truth: gliding wasn't his thing. It never would be. Better to accept it now than waste four more days on a skill that defied his every effort.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlaced against his jaw. His thoughts churned, weighing between two options... and...
"I think... I will…Take the Fall," he said suddenly, slicing through the silence that had been encircling them like some destiny Hunter.
The words seemed to brush Sarah's ears rather than enter them. She turned toward him with an incredulous half-smile.
"What'd you say?"
She asked, as both her eyes and Lucy's eyes ran to him. If only stares were bullets, Simma would have been riddled with thousand holes.
But Simma wasn't joking no more; in fact, he had made up his mind. Not that Sarah wasn't a good teacher, actually, he had enjoyed the night like no other, but this was something of less interest to him both now and anytime soon in the future. He just enjoyed the moment and not the training.
And he better not waste his time learning it; rather, he would just take the fall and then spend the remaining four days learning his within beast and weapon. Whatever the fall was, he just hoped it would not pose a much greater threat than his within beast was doing already.
"I said I'm taking the fall."
Sarah shook her head slowly, a strange mixture of frustration and concern in her eyes, not just any kind of concern, but the type that might be misread as motherly care. Lucy's brows furrowed, though she didn't seem to share the same depth of worry.
"No way… tell me you are not serious." Sarah pressed on, both her gaze and gesture dead serious.
Simma turned to her, her fingers still crossed around his mouth, like a man unfazed that he was going to see his own death.
"I'm serious," he said, his tone flat. "This isn't my thing. I'm done. I'll take the Fall."
Sarah took a long blink as if summoning up a pep talk out of an empty brain.
"You don't even know what the fall is yet. It might be something so bad that you might not recover fro.... "
"And it could be good," Simma cut in, a spark of defiance in his voice. "Maybe it's easy, but then the board or whatever they are called gives it this strange and scary name to keep people away. seriously, do you guys ever think of that?"
He turned towards them. His hands were no longer crossed rather they were busy making gestures, punctuating his words.
But the look on their face said he was more insane than sane.
"If there's anything I know about the Wood Hints," Sarah began, her voice tight,
"...it's that everything comes as it is named. The tournament is already too complicated to start with. Therefore if it's called the Fall, then it's exactly that...and maybe, worse. they don't play tricks with the names they give each phase."
Simma exhaled. He had been happy a moment ago, but now anger was already stirring. It had been building quietly, and now it throbbed beneath his skin like a pulse. No one needed to tell him that something was going on with him, and with the redness building inside, he knew that if this argument continued, he would snap, so he made it quick.
"Maybe that's true, but I'm taking the fall, and I'm no longer doing this… I'm sorry."
He unlaced his gliding shoes, set them aside, and strode away.
He had barely reached the exit when a cold whisper bloomed in his mind.
He could see the writings in his mind's eye, it was his echelon seal.
----------------------------------
[Simma…]
[ Choice Registered. ]
[ Designation: The Fall ]
----------------------------------
He kept looking at it. Though blinded by this stupid little rage he was already starting to feel, he really wished his ES would show the part that normally said reveal.
But it didn't.
'Seems like I will only have to find out what this is during the tournament.'
Whatever that would go wrong should go wrong. At this point, he didn't care. The real enemy wasn't the ice, or even the Fall, it was the frustration eating him alive, fuelled by his inability to summon his Within Beast or weapon without tapping into rage.
The same rage that was trying to turn him into something else, and had caused him to easily become angry.
He now wondered what would happen if he gave into this rage once more like he had done during his training session with the strange man. Maybe it would now burn him fully, but he didn't want to think too negatively.
...
Simma went back to his room, his breath rugged as if he had just gone three full rounds on hot sex. But this wasn't pleasure; it was anger, a kind that just arises through meaningless things.
This wasn't his personality, attitude, nor character; it was just something that started happening lately, and if he was asked, he would say that it was because he had summoned his within beast and the weapon twice out of anger. Who knows what would happen when he does it the third time?
How else was he going to summon it then, since he had tried all the other ways but all were like pouring water on stone.
On the desk sat the enormous book. Its pages had spoken of anger before, hinting at dangers he hadn't fully understood. Whoever had sent it knew far too much about him… yet had gone out of their way to mask their identity, to the extent of even sending Lucy to deliver it.
If the person didn't, why impersonate his writing and send Lucy to bring it here?
The book held some information that had been helping Simma in some ways. It was so strange that it felt like Simma was reading all about himself and everything that was happening to him right now.
He moved over to the book, but he was sure that the anger in him would not make him digest anything if he decided to read it, he was too wound up to absorb a single word.
Well, the tournament was now four days away, and once this night passed, it would be only three days away. The countdown sent swords gliding down his spine. He hadn't mastered his within beast yet, but he had mastered something else, how to call out his new pet servant, the Shadewalker. Whom he had named Ms. shady.
He was still receiving training sessions with the strange man, who told him that he shouldn't beat himself up or hurry the process of learning how to summon a dragon, but rather embrace reality. For those that had hurried the process ended up badly.
The way he said it, made it sound like many people had dragons as their within beast, but truth be told, Simma had not seen or heard about anyone else except himself.
Anyways, the man had drilled him on how to call out his leopard, and he had decided to summon her now.
He made sure no one knew about the leopard. At times, though, he would summon it and come out of his room, even go down to the hall to eat, but no one would see it since it would be lurking in their shadows.
One time, he had ordered her to go down to the hall and steal him some food, which it did, and Simma was quite getting fond of her.
The last time that he had disgraced Draco, he wouldn't have done it without the help of the Ms. shady, and remembering all this kind of reduced the anger in him.
He then decided to summon her out.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink into the dark. The world seemed to turn, shadows swirling.... and then…
Lick.
A warm, rough lick brushed across his face, and the leopard was there on his bed beside him, its golden eyes gleaming, matching its golden-black spotted fur.
Simma could never get tired of looking at that beautiful face that always made him sneer, "Awww."
He ran his hand at her lower neck and the other hand across her back. If only this leopard was his within beast, why would he worry about anything in this Wood Hint Tournament?
The leopard let out a pleasurable squint, which showed that it enjoyed its master's touch, a squint that Simma would always call a smile. The leopard licked Simma again, but Simma pushed her playfully.
That was all the invitation she needed. She pounced, knocking him off the bed in a mock attack.
"Hey, you're rough, buddy!" Simma laughed, holding her head away to stop the relentless licking. She growled softly in playful protest.
Then...
Knock knock.
A knock ran on the door, and before Simma would raise his head from the floor or ask who was there, she melted seamlessly back into the shadows.