A Flawed Alliance

Chapter 8- Chimera's Blood

When I entered the dorm, everyone was trying not to stare at me. Everything swirled and blurred together as I tried to head to my bed. I blinked. Things became even more blurry, the walls merging into one another and the people around me just mere blocks of figures.

I flopped on my bed, watching my classmates mingle around. They were clearly avoiding me, maneuvering in long circles around my bed and avoiding eye contact. I dug my head in my pillow and breathed it in. Breathed in. Breathed out. Until the pillow was hot and stuffy with my breath.

Everything was still blurry when I finally lifted my head to breathe fresh air. I blinked some more and noticed the tears. The tears that were leaking out of my eyes. I rubbed them but it only ignited a burning kind of sensation to my eyes.

A soft item landed on my hip. I turned around, every limb of my body screaming to rest and be still. The item almost fell to the side of the bed as I was turning, but I caught it in time before it fell off. It was a wet towel, so small and puny against the ruckus I had caused to myself. Someone was right next to my bed.

Sliding myself up to rest my back against the headboard, I feigned a passive face and lazily moved my head to the side. I didn't have to fake a passive face very much- I was already annoyed and tired from today's event.

Even after the competition, Logan's face was clean from injuries and his tanned skin was bright and lively. A line of sweat glistened around his hair line but that looked purposeful, a showing off that he had won fairly from the competition.

For the first time, I noticed the phoenix on his right hand. It was not glowing at all like mine, and looked like strokes from a black, thick, paintbrush, carelessly drawn in. Though, the symbol was the same drawing.

Without much thought and care, I picked up the towel and smacked it on my cheek and on the cut. The cool sensation made me want to use the towel more. So, I did, using it to wipe my whole face. I felt myself pant from the relaxed feeling as if I had so many burdens before and it had disappeared with just one wipe of a towel.

"Thanks," I said.

He didn't say anything about the competition. Just stood there silently, almost reaching out for the towel when I placed it on my lap. His hand was just an arm's length before he retracted it again and scratched his head.

"It didn't turn out as you expected again, did it?" Logan sat down on a stool next to my bed.

"Aaron said I didn't have to train anymore if I didn't want to," I replied. I couldn't stop staring at him, at his expressions, at his face. I sighed, leaving my hands on my stomach and feeling the rhythmic motion of it. "Somehow it didn't go the way I planned. Everything didn't. Was I really born so privileged I didn't have to train with a weapon in my life?"

A wistful look crossed his face. "You still made it in," Logan said, holding his hand out to his side. "People are going to forget about it sooner or later."

I turned over on the bed until I faced him. His eyes tilted down with my movement. "Does that even matter?"

Logan placed a hand on the bed. "Maybe not. Maybe it only matters that you made it."

"How am I going to face Aaron after this," I moaned, putting my head in my hands. "Not only that, but I'm also going to have to train extra hard."

"Iridian," he whispered. "I have a feeling it'll be better after a night's rest. Your Phluid is a lot more sensitive than you think."

He stood up, releasing his hand from the bed. His eyes were really dark, especially against the dazzling reflections of the wall mirror. Definitely a dark presence, yet there was something reserved and gentle.