Despite Micah's newfound lightness, the night still dragged by in an endless cycle of tossing and turning and readjusting. He must have snatched some sleep, though, because he opened his eyes to the sight of a little rounded cake balanced on the arm of his chair. He devoured it in a few bites. It was even sweeter than the ones he remembered, leaving a wonderful tingle on his tongue. Maybe trouble tasted a little like cake.

The joy it brought rapidly faded as the day continued at the same sluggish pace. Corinne rose not long after the sun, but she barely cast him two words, muttering something about checking the situation before leaving with her rifle in hand. Nerves twisted with the vivid memory of a pistol pushed against his chin choked his request to join her, although as the next lonely hour stretched out before him, regret broke it apart. He wandered back and forth in lazy strides, humming a tuneless melody, until its notes leapt high and fast enough to send him meandering towards the door.

Rivo caught him prying it open, although one glimpse of the greyed, shadow-strewn street might well have been enough to discourage him anyway. Even in daylight, Duine was speckled by darkness.

At least the man was lenient enough to provide answers to the few questions Micah could piece together. Mistress Rajan -- or Khalida, although Corinne was among very few who used her first name freely -- and the family that came before her had always held some kind of control over Anhren's workings, but only over the past few years had she begun to tighten her grip on the city. People either swore loyalty to her, poisoned by her corrupted ideals, or lived in fear of her. Josephine's reaction to Corinne was easy to understand now; to many more like her, every stranger around a corner was one of Rajan's lackeys come to steal what little they had. Such despair was a foreign concept to Micah, and yet the more he heard, the wider the pit in his stomach grew.

Khalida Rajan was a demon blood, for certain. She had to be. But so many other humans weren't, and yet they suffered while she thrived.

It wasn't right.

But it isn't my place to care, he reminded himself, repeating it more solidly to stamp down the squirming of his heart. His kind had chosen to abandon humans when he was barely a child. If they had forgotten right and wrong in the absence of guidance, then that was the way it had to be.

Micah was no guardian angel. The dancer could control only his own movements, not the song that blared around him. He was here to weave his way through, fetch his prize, and disappear.

And yet, when Corinne slipped back inside in tight silence, shadows gouged under her murky eyes, he couldn't help the desire to seize her by the wrists and guide her out with him.

Daylight had streamed through the windows bright and warm for some time before Lilith and Kasper surfaced from upstairs. They rushed eagerly to explain the modifications they'd made to the device, most of which flowed senselessly over Micah's head, although he was more distracted by watching Kasper anyway. His bouncy excitement betrayed nothing of last night's occurrence. The only incline was the downward twitch of his smile as his eyes met Micah's, a sharp breath sucked in before he papered over the crack.

A dark thread of curiosity tainted the satisfaction he'd felt previously. Whatever trouble Kasper kept hidden, it wasn't the usual sort. Trouble didn't have such jagged edges.

But Micah had promised to say nothing, and he didn't plan on breaking that. Not that he would have had the chance anyway. Before he knew it, Corinne was squeezing him into the coat again, and then he was being marched outside, his curiosity soon whisked away by the dust-ridden air and gravel digging into his feet. Lilith strode ahead, Kasper scampering at her side and poring over her device, while Rivo strapped a pistol to each hip and took up the rear. Even yesterday, Micah might have felt somewhat trapped with the four of them surrounding him, but he was beginning to see that the city they shielded him from was a far greater danger. Tense as he was, having Corinne at his side felt safer than anything else.

The streaming rays of sunshine did help. Light knitted glinting reflections in windows as they passed by, transforming them into misted mirrors. They were too weak to warm the air a great deal, but he still tilted his head back, letting a part of him drift back to the ever-brightness Elysia must have been painted with in that moment.

"Your hair really does sparkle."

Micah snapped around, jerking when he found Lilith's wide, round eyes picking over him. He released an uncertain chuckle. "Is that good?"

"It's very pretty." She cocked her head, a few loose bits of her blonde hair dangling in her face. She paid them no attention. "Silver was a good choice. Contrasts the gold tints, and matches your eyes."

He frowned. "I didn't choose it. It's always been like this."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "Fancy. Corinne used to have a red streak in her hair, you know."

He threw a glance backward to where Corinne had dropped back to walk alongside Rivo. "That would suit her."

"Don't you think?" Lilith adjusted her glasses, turning her gaze to the path ahead. "I wouldn't bring it up, though. She's gone off the colour a fair bit."

Something about the way she said it implied there was more to the statement than came through, although he couldn't decipher what. He opened his mouth, preparing to ask, but Kasper's exclamation cut between them instead.

"Hold on! I'm getting something!"

He'd halted in the middle of the street, grinning down at the device in his hands. His eyes flashed bright as he looked up. "I think it's somewhere near here."

"This close?" Corinne asked, stepping in beside Micah. Her arms were folded.

Kasper shrugged. "I guess we got lucky." He spun on his heels, taking in the surrounding buildings, then pointed the device towards a street to the right. "Down here."

He started off, only making it a few steps before Lilith jogged in front of him, catching his wrist and squinting down at the device. Her frown slid her glasses a smidge down her nose. "Are you sure?"

Kasper jerked it back towards him, cradling it to his chest as he examined it. His face was hidden from Micah at this angle, but he did gasp faintly. "I... I'm sure it was there a moment ago." His fingers almost blurred as they skipped over the dials, the click of a few switches cutting through the street's quiet, before Lilith snatched it back.

"Odd," she murmured. She gave it an absentminded shake. "There was definitely something?"

"Definitely." Kasper's nod was frantic, several bobs too many. A little of that twitchiness he'd exhibited last night was creeping back in. He fiddled with the buttons of his jacket.

Lilith hummed, too focused on the device to notice. With a sigh, she sunk back into the alley's wall. "I better run a few checks. We good to stop here for a few minutes?"

Corinne tapped her foot. Her stare razed the street, from the tattered cloth hung across nearby doorways to the sharp spike of a sky-scraping tower poking above rooftops in the distance. "Fine," she said eventually, her voice ground by reluctance.

With an absent nod, Lilith slid to the floor, already whipping a thin metal implement from her pocket and jamming it into the device's corner. Kasper paced along the other side of the alley, still frowning at his coat buttons. Micah took a hesitant step, searching for the right question to match the strange twist in his stomach, but Rivo jolted his attention by brushing past his concealed wing. He nudged Corinne's shoulder. "I'll keep watch."

She nodded at him, and he strode to the side of the street, reaching for the lip of the nearest roof, and pulled himself up with surprising agility, scrambling at the chinks in the brickwork before he slung himself onto the rusted dome. He perched at the edge of it, drawing one of his pistols from his belt.

Micah's hand wandered to the pistol pinned at his own hip. During their wait, Rivo had also fashioned a strap for him to slot the weapon into rather than surrendering it to the depths of his trouser pocket. It was a little more convenient there, he could admit, as wary as it made him to have it so visible whenever he glanced down. He just prayed it would remain there. Most of what Rivo had told him about its workings had refused to sink in, as if his mind recoiled from the very knowledge, quivering at the thought of using that trigger.

Tapping at his side instead, he looked to Kasper, but his gaze snagged on Corinne instead. She leaned into the wall where Rivo had climbed, rolling something over between her fingers. Upon closer inspection, he realised it was a piece of the ornament he'd broken, sparkling in shards of scarlet and ruby. Its red light reflected in her eyes.

Red. He cocked his head, watching her. If she'd gone off the colour, then why did she study something of its shade so purposefully?

An itch skittered along his fingertips, the sweetened taste of cake finding its way back into his mouth. He swallowed, glancing around. Lilith was deeply engrossed in her device. Kasper was kicking at the gravel a couple paces away, oddly reserved, but Micah couldn't place why. His thoughts were a maze, and if he wasn't careful, he'd end up lost in them. He needed an easy escape. Something he knew.

An easy grin tugging at his lips, he slid in beside Corinne. She threw him a glance -- brief and disinterested, but it was enough. By the time she looked back to her hands, he'd already plucked the object from her grip, spinning to shield her from snatching it back immediately. She chased regardless, grabbing for his wrist. He jerked away.

"Micah," she snapped.

"What is this?" he asked, holding it high up to the light. Two obsidian chinks were set into its oblong shape, a narrow split wedging it open lower down. He tilted it, frowning, and gasped. "A snake. It's the head of a snake."

"It's none of your business." Her swipe knocked against it even as he dodged out of the way, loosening his grip. He held it tighter. Unfortunately, she was a fair bit taller than Jinx.

He wouldn't let it stop him. He backpedalled into the centre of the street, the scrape of grit on his heels easier to ignore when trouble left him soaring on a different plane. He continued to edge back as he examined the broken snake. A memory popped into his head. "Is it related to that, um... that place? The... something... serpent?" He twirled around, his covered wing clouting her shoulder, then scampered towards the bend in the path. "Or the snake-biters?"

Her eyes flashed as he spun back to face her. "Give it back."

"Answer me first." There was genuine curiosity emerging now, a thread twined loose enough to keep his steps light. Rivo might have explained the frame of this world to him, but there were still more mysteries, a gap in the puzzle laid before him with Corinne split into several pieces. Micah could never figure out puzzles, but he knew how to play a game.

She lunged forward. He skipped around her, his wings straining against his coat as they begged to be free to join in. Without their support, he was going to trip. He'd rather his game didn't end that way.

"You know you want to," he said, dangling the ornament in midair for less than a second before whipping it behind his back. His grin widened as she bared her teeth at him. "It's easy enough. I'm just asking--"

Her leg hooked around his, wrenching him off balance. Feet sliding from under him, he crashed to the ground, crying out as his compressed wings smacked into the hard street. Pain lanced up them in clawing shreds. His hand was still partially trapped beneath them, pressing a further ache into his back, the snake's glass head enclosed in his fist.

And Corinne's knee dug into his chest, her weight pinning him down. The tiny licks of flames in her eyes resembled scraps of shadow. "Give it back."

He wrestled in a breath, attempting a shaky smile, clinging to the game even as trails of frost leaked over his controls. "Come on. This is cheating."

Something flashed with her movement. There was no way of making it out, not until the cold prick of metal touched his neck, truly freezing the air in his lungs. "Do I look like I care?" she hissed.

The itch drowned in icy waters, the spice on his tongue cooling to the sour taste of fear. It dried his throat. He'd been careless, stupid. He'd started to feel safe around her. He'd let his guard down. But Corinne wasn't a fool to be played, not a piece in a game. She was real, and she was dangerous. He fought the urge to swallow.

Somehow, he cracked fear's paralysis enough to twist his wrist, to open his hand and let the snake's head roll out onto the street. Her eyes flicked to it, unchanged in their darkened fire, before she finally retracted the knife. It glinted briefly in the sunlight before it vanished into her sleeve. Micah sucked in several rapid breaths, his heart thumping in his ears. Relief was a slippery thing to grasp. Even when she stood, releasing the weight on his chest, he couldn't find the energy to do more than stiffly sit up.

She picked up the ornament. A hairline crack ran just above one of the snake's eyes, no doubt the result of his clenched grip. She turned away sharply, returning it to her pocket, then combed her fingers through her dark hair. If he'd been certain it wasn't caused by the pounding in his head, he could have sworn her hand was shaking.

But he definitely saw her tense.

He flinched, bracing himself against the ground as his knees drew in, convinced she was going to turn on him again. A trickle of sense carried away the possibility when he realised her gaze pierced right past him, focused on something else.

"Don't move," called a voice.

Kasper's voice.

Twisting around, Micah dug his fingers into the gravel, his heart leaping to his throat. His gasp speared right through it. Kasper really did stand there, more rigid than he'd ever been, his eyes flickering with azure uncertainty even as his lips formed a fierce line. And gripped in both his hands was a pistol, his arms taut and alive with the slightest tremors as he pointed it right at Corinne.

Micah only noticed his hand had drifted to his own pistol when it passed through the space where it should have been. Realisation spiked through him. He hadn't seen Kasper with a pistol before. His quick fingers must have done their work again while Micah was distracted.

But why?

He dug his heels in, pushing himself a little more upright as he began to rise. The pistol jerked suddenly in his direction, and he froze. Kasper stared at him along its barrel like an animal caught in the glare of a light. "Neither of you move," he commanded, his voice breaking.

It moved back to Corinne after a moment, but still Micah hardly dared breathe. Confusion swirled his thoughts. This wasn't right. He'd known Kasper was keeping a secret, but not like this. This boy was bouncy, excitable, not violent. He didn't have malice.

But he was still human. How trusting had Micah become in such a short time? He truly was naive.

"Kasper." Corinne's voice was level, jarringly controlled after the fury that had cracked it last time she spoke. "You don't have to do this."

His head tipped down a fraction, determination steeling his stance. "I do. It's the only way."

Although Micah didn't dare turn to look at Corinne, he could almost feel the burning edge of her stare, shaped with the concentrated surety of Anhren's bluest lamps. "Whatever Khalida promised," she said, "she won't give to you."

Kasper's knuckles whitened with his grip. "She will."

"She won't." The fire flared a little too much, splinters forming in the hardened tension that encased each of them. "That's what she does. She lies."

Harsh, ashen bitterness scraped through her tone. It dragged claws through the lining of Micah's throat. He swallowed, his fingers burrowing deeper into the path to keep himself anchored.

"Y-you're just saying that," Kasper attempted to bite back. His finger edged towards his trigger, and suddenly it was all Micah could see, the quivering touch a bare second away from lashing out, the hunger for blood primed in the dark depths of the weapon's barrel.

Still it pointed at Corinne.

Dully, something clicked into place at the back of his mind, a puzzle piece with too indistinct an image to decipher. Corinne. Kasper was going to kill Corinne. Those men on the street who used Mistress Rajan's name had attacked Micah, not some human girl. Why were Kasper's orders different? Surely, the real prize was an angel?

In better circumstances, Micah might have laughed. Was he really complaining about not being the one in danger of being shot?

Instead the sound drowned, any humour muted by the heavy terror that filled his lungs. He should have said something, begged Kasper to stop, but instead he choked in silence. Corinne's voice was all he could hear. "I'm not. Put the gun down."

Kasper didn't move. His blue eyes shimmered.

"Put it down, Kasper." A dangerous note slid into her tone, a chink of ice sharpening her cool calm. "Last warning."

His jaw clenched. For a brief, dizzying second, his gun seemed to twitch, his finger relaxing on the trigger, and a swell of hope rose in Micah's chest. Then the motion retracted, and panic's tide collapsed it. "No," Kasper said, his voice somewhere between a growl and a whimper. "This is your last chance." He drew in in a shaky breath, blinked, hardened his stance. "I'm sorry--"

A shot rang out across the street.

On instinct, Micah's eyes squeezed shut, that awful ringing shredding through his skull. Every part of him curled inward, his knees flinching into his chest, his forehead thrust against the nook between them. His clenched fists gathered handfuls of gravel. Even as he succeeded in peeling his eyes open, they wouldn't relax.

A beat of staring at the fabric of his trousers, and he summoned the courage to lift his head

The first thing he saw was blood. It stained Kasper's fingers where he clutched at his middle, and coated the shirt beneath, the one made visible as he clawed back his coat. With every panicked heave of his chest, more blood gushed out, trickling in scarlet rivulets through the material.

His head jolted up. His blue eyes were cloudy, unfocused, the fierce light formerly lit within them cast in shadow, but still a dark kind of desperation swarmed into them. Pleading, almost. Helpless. His lips fumbled over a word, but before he could make a sound, his backward step crumbled beneath him and he fell.

Some distant part of Micah pulled at him with the desire to run forward and catch the boy, but the rest of him refused to move. Kasper hit the ground on his own. The gun slipped from his fingers, unused and forgotten.

His quiet gasps faded, and silence swooped in its heavy weight.

It was broken by the crunch of Corinne's step forward, her form brushing the side of Micah's vision. He couldn't bring himself to turn and look at her. The slightest glimpse of the lowered rifle in her hands was more than enough.

"Is he dead?" He choked on the words, biting down on his tongue at their end.

"Most likely." Her voice is almost monotone, emotionless. "I don't miss."

A chill swept through Micah. Wound taut as his limbs were, it was enough to wrench him upward into a stumble, staggering forward until he knelt at Kasper's side. His hand wandered forward to touch Kasper's, tracing a few hesitant fingers over his palm. His skin had grown cold. Micah's throat tightened, the awful prick of tears stinging his eyes. He let them drip out, staring deliberately downward so that he wouldn't have to meet Kasper's blank gaze.

Jinx might have laughed at him for it; here he was, crying over a human boy he'd known for less than a day. Human lives were short anyway. It shouldn't matter if they were cut just a little shorter. Yet that didn't diminish the fist crushing his heart, the tightened knowledge that this mattered more than anything else he'd faced.

When an angel died, his heart lived on. Humans had no such blessing.

Corinne's hand landed lightly on his shoulder. He flinched on instinct, a cold shiver running outward from the touch. Corinne had done this. She'd killed him. Maybe that concept should echo with more than hollow sadness.

His voice rode on a whispered breath. "He... he snuck out last night. I saw him."

"And you didn't tell us?" If she was angry, her tone muted it.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. "This..." This is my fault. The truth that wove the statement was lead on his tongue, sinking back into his throat before he could begin to gather the strength to lift it, but still it drilled in amongst his thoughts. Another tear slipped down his cheek.

Corinne grabbed his arm, and this time he didn't fight her as she tugged at it. "Come on. We need to find the others."

He let her haul him to his feet. Her grip on his wrist helped twist him away from Kasper's form, resisting the urge to glance back one final time. The sight was already seared into his mind.

This is my fault. There would be no more games in Duine, no more doses of trouble. He couldn't watch anyone else die.

⋄┈┈┈⋄⋄✧♡✧⋄⋄┈┈┈⋄

Okay so this book isn't entirely goofy fun. Whoops haha :iminnocent:

I never set out with the intent of using the other ONC prompt "Was this a game to you?" but it keeps trying to fight its way in here anyway. I'm not complaining.

Oh yeah and uh. RIP bby boy :pensive:

- Pup