Phoenix made it through that pod without anyone saying a word to her, joining Cassie, Lyca and Boris, and waiting for Belfire to step through. She had to fight back that grin, not wanting to give this all away now that she was through, but she didn't feel like smiling when she stepped into that next room. There were so many people, too many, more than Phoenix had ever seen before in her life, and she almost took a step back, her heart racing, her mouth going dry, but then she felt those fingers snake between hers and pull her towards him. Cassie went stiff too, her eyes darting around the room, her forehead lining in a crease.
"Stay close," she said, her voice so quiet, but Phoenix didn't have time to ask her why. "There," she said, jerking her head, and she started moving through the crowds.
Belfire didn't let Phoenix go, that hand around hers so tight as he pulled her behind him, and then she saw those flickering Implants, the tips of his fingers tapping against his lips as he sat there. He didn't look up when they came close or when Cassie sat at his feet with her back so stiff and straight, but he did when she heard, "Gabriel!"
A Master broke free of the crowd, his white robe so crisp and clean, those two Woodlanders behind him.
"Quintus," Master Gabriel nodded, and Master Quintus flicked his wrist at his Fighters, showing them to stand at the wall behind them just beside Lyca and Boris, and then he turned to Master Gabriel, that grin on his face somehow growing as he sat in the chair beside him.
"Looks like it's going to be a good one," Master Quintus said. "Who are you betting on?"
"Myself."
Master Quintus stared at Maste Gabriel for a moment, his eyes never blinking, his head tilting to the side, and then he laughed. "I like your confidence, but be careful," he said, his voice growing low and quiet, his eyes flicking across the room. "Not many of the other Masters here have met a Quarter-Master before and they won't like losing to one either. Save your Woodlander's show until after the Fights just in case you have to smooth things over."
"I didn't bring her crossbow."
Master Quintus sat back, his eyes going wide, his forehead lining into a deep crease. "Unwise," was all he said, and Master Gabriel smirked, laughing a small laugh that came out of his nose, and then she heard, "Quintus! Gabriel!"
"Astor," Master Quintus nodded, his face tense and stiff.
This time Willow didn't even look up, only staring at the floor, her eyes distant and hazy, and Phoenix could only watch her, something cold and sharp springing to her heart. So desperately she fought it, but one more look at Willow's face and she knew that she would have to add her name to her heart and keep her memory safe pretty soon.
"What a turn out!" Master Astor beamed.
"Where are your Fighters, Astor?" Master Quintus asked. "Or didn't you bring any?"
"I did, they're right there."
Phoenix saw him, feeling Boris go stiff behind her as the two men recognised each other, and then they stood beside each other, their shoulders rising higher and higher, their backs so tense, but soon it was her shoulders that were stiff and strained.
"Will she be doing another show?" asked another Master.
Phoenix could hear it, how he was straining to keep the excitement from his voice, how he was trying to sound like he didn't much care for the answer, but his eyes kept flicking from Master Gabriel's face to hers, almost like he couldn't stop them, almost like he didn't dare look away for too long in case he would miss something. He was the third one to ask already, the third one to make the trip over to their corner of the room, and he got the same answer the others had.
"No."
His eyes flicked back to Master Gabriel, the corners of his nose twitching like he was fighting back a scowl. He looked like he wanted to say something, his forehead lining in a crease, those eyes shining brighter, but then he nodded and walked away. It was only a few minutes later that another one approached, and Phoenix almost expected to hear that tut, for those Implants to flicker furiously and for him to tilt his head, but his voice was so soft, always just above a whisper wherever he said, "No."
After the last time, Master Quintus laughed, leaning back in his chair and smoothing the top of his thigh with the palm of his hand. He turned, his mouth open ready to say something, but whatever he was about to say was lost as the room suddenly went quiet and all eyes turned to the Master now standing on the large podium that lined the back wall.
"My fellow Masters," he said. "You are most welcome here in my house. We will have a fine evening here tonight!" he smiled, his arms opening wide as the room filled with cheers and the sound of smashing pitchers, and then he waved an arm and a screen flickered to life beside him. "Fights go from top to bottom with five minutes in between. Betting will close thirty seconds before each Fight and make sure to send your best Fighters," he grinned. "I won't spoil the grand prize just yet, but I promise you it'll be worth the risk."
Phoenix hated the way they cheered, so loud, so crass, the sound of laughter, of drinking and things breaking and smashing echoing around the room as the first Fighters approached. Cassie leapt up to the arm of Master Gabriel's chair and Belfire grabbed Phoenix's wrist to bring her around to the front, but somehow it was all worse than the first Fight Phoenix had watched. Perhaps it was the certainty that this time it would end in death, perhaps it was the thought that this time so many in this room wouldn't be leaving it alive. Suddenly she found herself scanning that screen, counting the names that Lyca would have to beat if she were to make it out of this, but then she had to stop, her heart so heavy, her mouth going so dry.
There was a yell as one of the Fighters on the podium lunged at the other, a yell that was answered by many cheers, many bouts of loud, joyous laughter. For a moment it didn't seem real, for a moment she could forget all that was about to happen, but there was no escaping it. Suddenly a blade struck home and metal snagged against flesh as a sword found its way into a stomach. It was over in an instant, blood spraying across the podium in big spurts, one man's eyes growing dull and hazy.
She felt Belfire grow stiff beside her, his face tight and grim, his eyes blazing. So desperately she wanted to reach out and hold his hand. So desperately she wanted to tell him that he was right and there was no sense to this, no meaning to this man's death or to his life, but she couldn't move. A hand reached out then, brushing against the back of his head and easing that stiffness in his shoulders, not hers but his. So carefully those fingers snaked through his dreads, so lightly they traced the skin on his neck. For a moment she was relieved, for a moment she was glad that he had taken some of Belfire's pain, some of his anger, but then she felt something sticky, something that burned its way through to the bottom of her stomach.
She didn't like it, not seeing them together, not what it meant, but which one was she unhappy to share, which one was it that sunk that deep pit inside her, which one sent that bitter taste to the back of her tongue? Phoenix didn't want to find out, then she only wanted to think of anything else, so she studied that screen, thinking on what she had to do and planning.
With the next sound of metal on metal and the next sound of yelling and fighting, her fingers went to her chest, tracing and trailing, never resting on one place for too long, and then she leaned against the front of his chair, her head resting against his knee, her hand diving behind his legs. She twirled it, feeling for the flat side of that pebble-like device and flipping it to rest on the tips of her fingers. She waited for the two Fighters on stage to be locked in a volley, for everyone's attention in the room to be firmly fixed forward, and then she pressed that pebble under the ridge of the Master's seat. Phoenix felt it come alive, humming against her skin, felt it bury itself into the cold stone. She traced it with her fingers when it stopped, checking to see if it was gone, but then she brushed up against it, a hand so soft and warm, a hand that sent a hot shiver all the way down to her stomach. Those eyes that looked back at her from the other side of those knees were somehow so bright, somehow so soft and light. She couldn't breathe then, wanting to lean in and feel those lips against hers, but then she felt that finger trailing across her skin just like it had the night before and she leaned back against the chair, letting go of Belfire's hand, her head turning to look at their Master.
He smiled at her, a smile that was small and soft, a smile that someone who didn't know him wouldn't have seen. That finger on her neck then ran across her cheek, trailing across her face and then pushing on her chin to make her look forward again and she sighed, sinking a little lower against the chair and feeling her shoulders drop. Too many people had already died and there were too many left to go when Belfire started shifting in his seat, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling with his face tense and strained. The Master handed him his fruit knife and a pear, some of the other Masters turning to watch them, some of them squinting, some of them with their eyes big and wide and shaking their heads.
If Belfire saw them, he didn't seem to care, his eyes fixed on that fruit in his hand, his fingers busy with peeling and slicing it as he sighed. With one big flick of his wrist he sent the skin flying, his arm hanging in the air almost like he was waiting for someone to say something, but no one did. He sliced into that pear then, cutting a thick piece, leaving it skewered on the knife and holding it out for Master Gabriel to take. She could've sat there for a long while watching them together, her heart a little easier, a little lighter, but Lyca stepped up in front of them, bowing to the Master and waiting. Phoenix wanted to shake her head, she wanted to tell her that she didn't need to do this, but that wasn't true, so she said nothing when she watched Lyca go.