GOLDEN AGE | ON HIATUS

V | FINN

Taking Narcissa's superhuman strength into account, Finn realised that was why she wasn't helping. Even when they'd been children, she'd stuck to the training dummies and punching bags, leaving them on the floor with sand pouring from the edges and the leather torn to pieces. Unless, of course, she was just too lazy or didn't care enough to help, but something told him that she was not much short of a friend to Lysandra.

Though their voices were clipped and strange, he could tell that they were both holding back, and there was some sort of history between them that he was missing.

Taking Lysandra's arms, he held her back as she screamed. Narcissa had finally stood up, ripping off a length of fabric from her shirt and tying it around Lysandra's mouth. Blood soaked through the fabric almost immediately as the girl bit down hard on her lip, and Finn cringed, standing perfectly still in order to keep her arms out of contact for anyone. Despite there not being much meat on her bones, he knew not to underestimate her.

If there was one thing he'd learnt, it was to never underestimate an opponent, no matter how weak they seemed. A tactic that had won him many fights, and guaranteed a top spot in the country's list of young athletes. People argued that he didn't deserve it, and Finn couldn't help but find himself agreeing, staying quiet whenever someone mentioned superpowers, wondering when he would be excused. Narcissa, as incredible at everything as she was, couldn't pick the same excuse that he had.

Enhanced agility, superhuman strength and intelligence - there was no room for her on the rankings, because she created her own. Had she been even at the tip of some list, people would've been furious. At least with Finn, his power couldn't lean into his sporting abilities as much. In Narcissa's case, everything was possible - and they knew it, every last one of them. Maybe that was one of the reasons why they hated her so much, or Finn was wrong, wrong as he'd been all his life and was doomed to be.

Wrong.

The word was decadent on his lips, and he tasted it in his mouth. It left a bitter taste that wouldn't go away, as much as he tried to will it to. It was only when Narcissa glared at him, tearing the cloth away from the now-silent girl that he realised that he'd murmured it aloud.

He wondered how long Lysandra had been quiet for, while he just sat there, useless. Judging from Narcissa's expression, it must've been quite a while. Or she was just impatient. It was hard to tell, with that disgruntled look being a permanent mask over her sharp features.

"Lysandra."

Narcissa's voice was low, almost pleading.
"At ease, soldier. At ease!" her tone rose slightly louder and more desperate.

The other girl slowly shook herself into consciousness, oak wood skin tinged with grey, pale and sick-looking. Spluttering, she stared hazily up at the ceiling, head resting on Finn's lap as he tried to make her sit up. He was unsure of what to do - the little medical training they'd had would be useless in this situation. They were superheroes, damn it, not doctors - they hadn't been created for this purpose.

"At ease," Lysandra mumbled at least, her voice like a whip. Turning to face the wall, she dug her nail into the plaster. Finn's stomach lurched as he read what she'd carved into the wall, the weight of her body suddenly far heavier than before. He promptly wondered whether he, too, was going crazy.

She was carving a skull into the wall, and evidently had been for a long time. Rows upon rows of them, some crossing over each other, others miles apart, far bigger or smaller than the others. Some of them had been carved with penknives, others with her own fingernails - but there was one thing that recurred in all of them without fail. The skulls didn't have the crossbones that Finn had seen in movies - no, these had jagged, gaping mouths, stained with what looked suspiciously like blood.