Chapter Text
After the round, Wanwood finds herself walking alongside Taph.
She’s not sure how it happened—they just ended up heading in the same direction. She was only planning on stepping outside for a quick breath of fresh air, maybe a night walk to clear her head. But it seems like Taph had the same idea. And now, they're wandering around the forest newr the cabins, walking about aimlessly. Their footsteps crunch softly against the ground, and the silence between them is almost deafening.
Wanwood glances at him but says nothing. She doesn’t want to be the one to start things, to strike a conversation with him of all people.
Surprisingly, Taph is the one who initiates first. He lifts his hands, then signs a quick greeting. “Hello.”
She gives a short nod, curt and polite. “Hey.”
He signs again, though this time, it's a little slower. “Sorry I tried to blow up your house.”
Oh. Well, she didn't expect that.
She lets out a sharp breath half a scoff, partly a scowl. “Not sure an apology’s gonna undo all that. But…” she shrugs, finally relenting, “Thanks, I guess. For helping me earlier."
Taph nods once as well, and doesn't say anything. He just simply follows along, keeping her pace.
And finally, he signs again.
“What you said… I thought about it. You were right. We do need a better system in place.”
Wanwood chuckles faintly. “Yeah. I know."
Taph rubs the back of his neck, the edge of his hood shifting with the motion. His hands slow as he signs again. “Sorry—I don’t really talk to people much. Most people don’t like me, especially once they find out what I do.
She side-eyes him, skeptical. “So why become a demolitionist, then? If you know people are gonna hate you for it?”
Taph signs once more, his movements becoming a bit more animated now, showing his excitement. “I like making things—bombs, tripwires, weird contraptions. At first, it was just for fun, and I ended up causing some chaos. But then Builderman saw my talent and recruited me!"
He lowers his hands. “Honestly, it could’ve gone worse. I'm just glad things turned out okay."
Wanwood chuckles dryly. “Didn’t take you for a little rebel.”
He shrugs. “Not rebelling. Just... experimenting.”
“I don’t think Builderman even remembers me,” he signs. “Maybe it’s the hood.”
"Huh." She pauses. “You wear that to stay anonymous or whatever?”
He nods. “Safety reasons."
“Makes sense.”
A moment of silence settles between them again—but this time, it's a little less tense. The wind shifts, rustling the leaves above.
“You’re not too bad… I suppose,” Wanwood mutters under her breath.
Taph perks up. Then she adds, her voice becoming a little quieter, “Sorry for trying to kill you or something. I was pissed.”
She kicks a rock down the path, watching it skip and bounce into the dark.
“It’s just… being someone’s lapdog pisses me off. Not asking questions, just obeying orders—you can’t trust people like that. And they sure as hell don’t accept people like us.”
Taph shakes his head. "That’s not true. People here aren't that bad."
Wanwood scoffs. “That’s what you think.”
She stops walking and turns slightly toward him. Her voice lowers, sounding more defensive now. “You think I’m an asshole for fun? People see what I am, and they assume the worst. There's no place for people like me here."
She looks away, her jaw tight. “So yeah—I don’t trust people. Why should I? Most of 'em wouldn't hesitate to turn on me.”
Taph watches her for a moment, then signs slowly. “I get it. I think I understand what you mean."
Wanwood raises an eyebrow. “Do you? I find it hard to believe."
"I... have trouble trusting people too."
He hesitates… then quietly slips off his gloves. The moonlight catches on his skin revealing his hands—they're a mess of burn scars. Pale, angry streaks twist across his knuckles and palms. Some look years old. Others look fresh, still healing.
Wanwood’s expression softens. “Does that come with the job?”
He nods.
“You should take better care of those.” She frowns. “Your golden boy Builderman didn’t say anything?”
Taph shakes his head. “He doesn’t know. Most of us… we keep to ourselves.”
Wanwood groans and rubs her temple. “Of course you do. Why won't you speak up for yourself?"
Taph tilts his head, and Wanwood immediately realises her error. "Wait—fuck, that's not what I meant. No offense."
"None taken."
She gestures at his hands. “And what, you’re just okay with hiding this forever?”
Taph signs again, and this time, there's a hint of sorrow laced in his movements. “It’s not for me. It’s for them. If they saw what I looked like... If they know what I’ve done… they would hate me. Or worse."
"I can't trust them with this, either." He pauses. “I’m not saying we’re the same. But I understand, in my own way.”
Wanwood’s gaze lingers on him. For once, she doesn’t have anything to say.
“Well. Shit.”
She runs a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated with herself. “You know what? I’m not any better. I act like I don’t give a damn, but the truth is—I care. I care too much. That’s the problem."
"I've got trouble letting people in—can't trust anyone with the truth. They take one look at you, and think the worst." She exhales slowly, trying to stifle the anger rising in her chest. “Letting people in? Telling the truth? It just gives them something to use against you. And when you’re someone like me, they don’t need much of a reason.”
Taph signs in response. “Well, you’re not alone.”
Wanwood snorts, before rolling her eyes. “Sure. That fixes everything.”
She glances back down at his hands and visibly winces.
“Alright. Put your gloves back on. I can’t stand looking at that.”
Taph’s expression falls just for a second, but he nods, and obeys. He slides the gloves on in silence. Then, without warning, Wanwood reaches out and grabs his arm—not rough, but firm enough to get his attention.
“Don’t look so down,” she says gruffly. Her tone is still sharp, but there's something kinder hidden underneath it. “Let's go find some burn cream for you or something."
She lets go and starts walking again, faster this time. Taph stares at her for a moment, before hurrying to catch up.
"And don’t get the wrong idea—" Wanwood muttered, already turning away. "I’m not doing this because I care. It’s just… ugly. Hurts my eyes.”
Taph blinked, then smiled quietly beneath the hood.
“If you say so.”