GOLDEN AGE | ON HIATUS

III | SASHA

Her train of thought was interrupted as a familiar black-haired boy in her line of vision, looking distantly queasy. Wildfire, his skin faintly greenish, gripped Sasha's arm. bringing the sleeve of her hoodie over her hand. It hid the tattoo on the inside of her wrist, an array of nonsensical English letters. She was distracted from peering at it as Wildfire gagged at her feet, bent over and clutching his stomach.

Coughing and retching, his eyes watered and his lips formed her name - "Sash."

"Hey, get up! Wildfire, we do not have time for this," Sasha hissed through gritted teeth, pulling him up. He was heavier than she'd once remembered him to be, only a small challenge. Physical strength wasn't usually something Sasha needed to rely on, but the situation had been compromised - using her power was way out of the question.

She apologised as she pushed through the crowd that had gathered in the square, muttering alternating between English and Usnayan. Whether they understood her, she didn't know, but she went on anyway, firmly clasping his arm and guiding him into a side street that was littered with empty beer bottles and smashed up dumpsters, even a cat curled up in a corner, claw marks on the brick wall beside it. Teeth chattering with a sudden chill as she pulled her hoodie further over her hair, Sasha pulled up Wildfire so that he was leaning against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, scuffing her shoes on the dumpster as she tugged at his shirt. "You could've gotten us captured, or killed - stop attracting attention, dude!"

"Sash," Wildfire said calmly.

She bit her lip, and realised that she was holding back angry tears. Blinking hastily, she let him speak, cheeks flushing from a mixture of cold air and annoyance.

"I did it to shake off a woman. The singer - she was tracking us, I'm sure of it. When you were getting all starry-eyed about your precious country, I was watching her."

Shooting him a dirty look, Sasha let out a dry laugh. "Very good. Did you have fun?"

Wildfire sighed exasperatedly. "You know what I mean..."

"No, I do not-"

"Shut up. So, I was observing her, and she was talking to a man once she stopped her performance. In perfect English, which isn't suspicious on its own, but pretty sketchy when she called him 'Agent'. Unless it's a crappy Homeland mission for another small-time arms dealer to something, I think it's safe to say that they're part of Crux. Unless you have a better suggestion."

"I do," Sasha prodded, lips chapped from the cold. "They could be agents from Usnaya. I mean, it is not far out of the realm of possiblity, I understand?"

"It's a possibility, but not likely. Usnaya has their fair share of superhumans. I've been meaning to ask about it-"

A noise ringing in Sasha's ears made her clamp a hand over Wildifire's mouth, heart racing. She couldn't help but notice how warm his skin was compared to hers, but pushed that thought away for the moment, inclining her head so that her hair flooded backwards and tucked behind her ears. Fortunately, Wildfire didn't try to protest. He had faith in her, she knew it. He'd always had, even when everyone else made her feel like even more of an outcast than she already was. An Usnayan immigrant, far away from a family that she'd actually known, and he had been kind to her. Well, not exactly kind, per say, but treated her as a friend in his weird little ways.

Teased her, challenged her to sparring, let her wear his black belt when her blue one was too weak for Sasha to feel any confidence. All while she cried herself to sleep every night, and nearly every night, she saw two hazy figures in her doorway in the darkness, one slouching in baggy clothes, the other in tight t-shirts and a presence of a prince. Not the evil useless kind, the valiant one that didn't slay dragons, instead reasoned with them. The peacemaker, not a warmonger. Finn was magical, enchanting to everyone with his strength and charisma and sweetness, but he wasn't like Wildfire. Finn was Crux's golden boy, and Sasha couldn't stop the gentle waves of resentment that lapped at her feet every time she saw him.