- Whisperpeak Academy for Wayward Dragons - Ch.15 P. 5 - Dying Tears -

Instructions

(+)ned the door without knocking. Under these circumstances, where a god's town was being run down by a tyrannical cult, boundaries were pretty flimsy. We had made it to Shortie's room when we realized the house was empty. From there we went into John's garage, where he was perfecting another gadget. "Mate, where's Shortie and Alex?" Oliver's gaze darted to all exits as he waited for an answer. John paused his muttering for a whole ten seconds before guffawing. "You're so scared! Aw, it's kinda cute to see how much you guys care. They are sparring. Head for the harbor, you should see 'em." Oliver's eyes widened and he glanced at me. "They're pretty good, so I wouldn't intervene. It's nothing like what you two do." "In what way?" I pressed, lifting my eyebrows in challenge. ". . . Guns." He left it at that, hauling some tires to the warp truck and testing their pressure. "Well, might as well see what they're doing." By the time our feet touched the gravelly pavement of the harbor, we understood what John meant. My temples vibrated as gunshots rang out. "Crickey- is nobody here worried a shootout is happening?" Oliver winced and tugged me behind him. "I guess that's the trust they've built." In the back of my mind, I wondered if the two leaders of the Resistance did this often. In the center of the pebbly field, two figures moved in an animalistic blur, gold flashes in sync with the booming sound, censoring their faces. Over the ruckus, I heard Alex's voice. "More maneuvers, less shooting. This requires precision and agility. Not brute force." He seemed mildly out of breath, but still impossibly patient. "Dang it Alex, I'm not a gymnast, I'm a coder. Let me hack the universe away and I'll be happy." Shortie's pink-blonde hair flew up as she dodged. She must have been busy to forget to dye it. "You're going to die thinking like that. /Learn/." Alex flipped her gun right out of her hands with a smooth chop, pointing his at her neck and whipping her around onto a single blue mat. "Again. Up." Shortie hauled herself up and rearranged her training gear. Alex strode to the other side of the harbor and loaded his gun. They both wore skin-tight suits that made it look like they were in the 75th Hunger Games. "Are they trying to kill each other?" Oliver muttered. We had retreated to behind some boulders. "No clue," I replied. Alex raised his firearm without hesitation, Shortie copying with a little less confidence. "Now." Alex sprinted to Shortie. His wrist came up to block her punch, then twisted it to wrench her gun from her just as she thrusted it up in defense. "Kick more. A roundhouse will get me down in the perfect amount of time to shoot, with a slim chance of me getting back up." She swiped hers quickly and pushed it into his chest after hurling her leg in a deadly circle. Just as she pulled the trigger, she tilted the tip so the bullet would miss him. "Good. Again." Alex went at her for the second time. This time their guns clashed in a spray of metal dots. I noticed tiny earmuffs in their ears, which would explain how unaffected they were. They kept firing at each other, but I saw the care that went into the shots. Alex's breath hitched when he almost hit her. This went on for a few more fast-paced minutes till Shortie was shaking and Alex's messy, wavy brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. "You're getting better, Rachel. Soon I won't have to worry about you dying all the time, hah." "You never had to, hmpth." He raised his hand towards her in a motion hoping for a handshake. She hooked his fingers in hers. "You know, I don't need all this kindergarten praise-" In a few seconds, she was pinned against the ground under a grinning Alex. "Gohts no?" Shortie was dead silent. I could see from here her cheeks were bright red. "Your statement doesn't sound like anything more deserving of kindergarten." "Stop-" He hummed chidingly. "Bold of you to think I care about your consent." He flipped her over so their gazes locked. His eyes smoldered, like dark brown wood being scraped into fire. "Something tells me you agree with me. And you're getting kinda comfy. Hmm, do you have a fever or are you just intimidated?" Shortie gulped and tried to contain a burst of nervous laughter. Something seemed off in her eyes. "Hm. The latter appears to be correct." He tucked a piece of her hair back and laughed. The sound was soft and easygoing, contrasting to the usual accented, chilling whisper of his voice. "You're redder than a tomato, hah. Get up, silly. Stop taking my antics so seriously- I'd prefer to leave /without/ a broken nose." "Mm-" Shortie began. There was a sudden uneasiness in her movements- Alex did something wrong. "I value your consent above plenty else. You should know that by now." He got up in one fluid motion and wiped off invisible dirt from his training one-piece, a small, sweet smile playing on his face.(+)