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In this place, the only thing they owned was each other. Angelica clutched her brother close to her chest, and he held her exactly as tightly. For once, the room was perfectly quiet, and utterly dark. No voices screamed for mercy in the distance, not her own, Argalia’s, or the voices she didn’t care to know. The lights didn’t blare on, alerting them that they would be ripped apart again.
It meant, to her, that now she could rest. She didn’t have to protect Argalia, her little brother. Though, of course, he probably thought the same as her, that she was his little sister. It hardly mattered, they could never know. For now, she held the only thing she owned close to her, and tried to relax.
When the inevitable occurred once again, she would bite and tear for him, and he would do the same for her. They would fight and lose for the sake of holding each other a moment more, and then the moment would be done. Once again the noise and lights would blare as she sat in fear, waiting to be told she owned nothing. She could handle being the one to leave. At least then there wasn’t the horrible waiting. When she was dragged down the corridors, at least she could be certain that her death would be the ending.
—
When the woman, Iori, came to save them, the two twins had gnashed their teeth at her. They’d lived long enough in the Outskirts that they knew they could make it, the feral refuse of the City fitting in perfectly with everything else established there. Iori, in response, just laughed. It had caught Angelica off guard. Most things out here were, if not intimidated by them, unwilling to go through the effort to earn the trust of the two of them.
It hadn’t exactly been easy for Iori to get them back into the City, but the particulars had hardly mattered to Angelica. What had mattered is that, instead of trying to tame them, she’d merely guided their protectiveness into greater efficiency. Instead of taking their teeth, she armed them with blades.
Argalia had taken to the scythe immediately, and Iori seemed to be proud. Angelica had more trouble deciding, loving so many of the weapons, but Iori had told them that they could only learn one weapon while they were so small. Eventually, Angelica took the axe. The weight of her swings felt only natural and… it mirrored Argalia’s scythe, in some ways.
Now, Angelica slept with her brother clutched tightly to her chest, and her axe on the side of the bed. Argalia’s scythe was similarly placed, their weapons, the second things they’d ever owned, staying by them. They could hardly trust Iori, no matter how little she seemed to care.
—
Argalia screamed at night, sometimes. She probably did the same, but she didn’t remember it, only waking up silent and afraid. All she knew is how to hold him, or how to be held.
It wasn’t… perfect, anymore. He insisted on murmuring in her ears the whole while. At this point she almost thought he just liked the sound of his own voice. She didn’t say anything, even if the continuous noise set her on edge. He didn’t complain when she held him in the darkness without a word, even though she was sure he hated it.
She couldn’t understand that desire for noise, honestly. Noise was a thing created from chaos, fear, the desperate screams of the weak. Silence was safety, the darkness a shield against the things that wanted to find them. He surely felt the same about her tendencies, but it didn’t matter. They had no choice but to turn to each other, the fear possessing them with no other options.
Truthfully, she had no idea what would happen when they would leave each other. And such a thing was an inevitability, as much as she loathed and needed it. It would mean an end to the constant noise he created, the meaningless chatter she loathed, all for the sake of something she couldn’t understand. But the idea of letting go of her little brother created a pit in her stomach, a fear that she’d never see him again, that this time the noise would consume him.
—
All she dreamed of was attaining the grade of Color, at this point. She’d heard whispers of freedom and chased them into this life. It wasn’t exactly as if she was fit for anything else. Argalia had been the same, of course, though it seemed they were chasing freedom in different directions.
Iori had been a good example of the freedom they might attain as Colors, if they could reach it. She went according to her whims, saving or killing as she so chose. Angelica only hoped that she could choose to lay down her blade when the time came, in perfect safety, in perfect silence.
Maybe she could even protect Argalia, drown out his noise in her darkness… they would be safe.
—
Being alone was strange. The absence was a sheer ache, but she ignored it. She’d recognized many of the looks in the people she’d met, now that she’d become a fixer. They were the emptiness of children, doomed to death. Everywhere, people had those looks, and she learned to ignore them. Those people would soon be consumed by a sudden violence, or a slow and creeping murder, or a horrible starvation. She couldn’t do much to help them, at her grade, so there wasn’t much point in burdening herself with it.
That look was the ache, she realized. They all held that pain of loss within them, too, and it came out in their eyes, consuming them. She determined not to let it consume her, and she crushed it.
She crushed the feelings that might have formed for anyone she worked with, too. They were all low grade, like she was, but they hadn’t been trained by colors. All of them were marked for death, haunted by the lives they’d lived. Angelica resolved not to become like them, and gracefully lost contact the moment she moved to a better office.
—
It became easier, over time. She ascended the grades quickly, thanks to Iori’s guidance, and began to truly live a life unowned. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t liked being owned and owning in turn, but it was different to live this way. She collected weapons, fortified whichever apartment she’d managed to rent, before taking all with her when she moved on once again.
It’s strange, to have so much that’s truly hers. She’s very careful not to hoard, to keep only what she can carry with her, but it only feeds the desire to have a place where she can gather what she wants without worrying about leaving it behind. Still, what she has now is so much more than before. More weapons, with which she’s able to wield with utter ferocity, and her true blessing, the gloves to give her peace in silence.
Mostly, it becomes easier to dismiss all the deaths she causes. They were people destined to die anyways, she could see it in their eyes. If she hadn’t taken the jobs, someone else would. It’s a constant reminder. She doesn’t worry that the feeling keeps coming back, because it seems only natural. She keeps taking lives, after all, and she’s determined to survive this necessary process.
It isn’t as if she doesn’t see Argalia, either, though they don’t meet often. The last time they’d met… it had been about as expected. She remembered the feeling of being whole, and this didn’t reach that height. They’d had a wonderful lunch, of course, and caught each other up on their lives, but when they left… Angelica thought there’d been a noise. In her memory, it was a scream, a hand reaching for her back, but it must have only been a whisper. No matter what, the noise was too much, scathing her. She left without looking back towards her beloved brother.
—
The air felt… different in Charles’ office. The people within it finally seemed like the type to live, for once, and there were some strange folks, too. Really, at this grade, everyone seemed strange, which made enough sense. Despite their differences, there was a relative sense of camaraderie, or at the very least they’d all known each other long enough on this job to make living side by side more enjoyable. There was, of course, an exception to this, an interesting enough fellow to attract her curiosity.
The man’s name was Roland, and she knew pretty much nothing about him besides the fact that he was competent and exceptionally bland in style. That, and the hostile aura that surrounded him. He’d tried his best to rebuff her attempts at conversation, and though it wasn’t as if she was the best conversationalist - she’d been called exceptionally blunt, as well as a variety of other harsher words, in her time - he was much more hostile than most at this rank could manage while still having working relationships.
She’d tipped her hand, ever so slightly, and she’d been somewhat surprised when he dismissed it. Generally, people reacted with some degree of sympathy to her sob story, but honestly, she couldn’t say she didn’t like his answer better. There wasn’t much need to pity her, given how well she’d made life for herself. But still, it was disappointing. She hadn’t learned a thing, even now. She had to admit to herself that the longer this game went on the more curious she got about the mask. It didn’t help that the heavy air that surrounded Roland kept growing.
It was pretty obvious that he was suffering, despite his attempts to rebuff her. Mostly, she thought that she might understand the hurt, and well… maybe she could help? She knew her way around the guilt very well at this point. The inevitability of death didn’t do anything to her, anymore, so long as she kept it locked down. That had become easy enough, so why not offer it to another? If only he’d just talk about it, she could help.
—
Angelica remembered the last time she’d seen Argalia. It had been when she was given her rank, Black Silence, the peak of what any fixer could attain. He’d been happy for her, in the way he was, fully dressed in his outfit of the Blue Reverberation. They hadn’t talked long. It was too strange to see each other, the void both full and emptier than it had ever been. When she’d left the business, resigning from the rank of Black Silence as best she could, he hadn’t come to see her.
She missed him, deeply, desperately. She missed her little brother who fit into her arms so well, who held her so delicately when she was afraid. The Blue Reverberation… might be someone different. She didn’t know. The Blue Reverberation had talked to the Black Silence with relative ease on that day, but now, the Blue Reverberation was nowhere to be seen for Angelica, just Angelica.
But it wasn’t so bad. The void was filled now, Roland by her side. He looked happy, and she was glad to be with him. Together, they had so much, much more than the child she’d been could have ever imagined. They were safe, in this neighborhood, even if they might have carved some of that safety out themselves by scaring the locals with their lost rank. Sure, they hadn’t gotten the Nest migration permit, but what would a person like herself even want with a Nest? The two of them had plenty enough experiences to know that it would be a bad idea.
It wasn’t so bad, really.
It was everything she dreamed of, maybe.