The Viper and The Vasser

9) The Deepest Shades of Every Color.

When Imogen Zezinger was a very little girl, she sobbed. She sobbed at any little thing, practically screaming with the depth of her heavy emotions, crammed inside her tiny body. These were not tantrums, you must realize. They were bouts of loneliness and sadness, most times inexplicable, that no child should feel.

She had a good home. She had no siblings to torment her. A handful of cousins who ignored her. A handful of friends who did the same. She diligently took swim lessons, and played basketball, and joined the art club. As she got older and older, her sobs became muffled in closets, as her parents shouted at one another beneath her floorboards.

Everything was right. Yet everything was also wrong.

Imogen learned to be quiet. She trained her mind to relax, to focus on only the present, and try not to spiral into the future or the past. She liked when her friends began calling her Zez, because they thought Imogen was too stuffy. She liked walking slightly behind them. She liked being brave by herself and quiet in the crowd. Sure, she liked it.

Imogen Zezinger was not the perfect picture of a heroine. With her bad hair and too-casual attitude, she did not belong in this narrative. She should still have been picking lemons.

~

A light breeze blew into the tent, cool enough to make Zez stir awake. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the darkness and the body next to her. Zanya was curled up tightly, her hands to herself, and silver hair covering her face and bare shoulders. The two women were facing one another, but they did not touch. Zez shivered.

She reached out, to cup Zanya's cheek. Her fingers brushed against warm skin. There was a moment where Zanya softly sighed, and Zez leaned in, but then was being flipped over. She tried to cry out, but Zanya was wide awake and feral, pinning her throat down.

"Don't-" Zanya hissed, her eyes wide and angry. Then, they roved over Zez, whose heart had just about stopped. "Oh, Zez."

She rolled off, but pulled her knees to her chest. Zez gasped for air, rubbing her throat.

"What's wrong with you?" she wheezed. "I...I..."

"I'm so sorry," Zanya tucked her long hair behind her ears. "Please, I truly, I just startled. I'm always on edge. I didn't mean to hurt you, I...I think I was having nightmares," she shuddered. "I felt myself drift into the Umber."

Zez sat up. "You scared me."

"I apologize."

Her breathing was uneven. Enough of Zez's friends suffered from panic attacks for her to recognize the beginning stages. Her fear melted, as she inched closer to Zanya. The woman was gritting her teeth, trying to catch her breath, her lips moving in what almost looked like prayer.

"I have to get some air," Zanya whispered, grabbing her clothes, and throwing them on, all while trying to control her breath. "Wait here. Please."

She disappeared from the tent, leaving Zez alone in the dark. Zez wrapped the thin blanket around her bare body, shivering. She hadn't woken up beside a lot of people, two or three max, and it had never gone like this before. She suspected it wasn't the sex. Oh, God, she hoped it wasn't the sex that made Zanya flee. Her cheeks heated up.

Zez was the type of person who fell hard and fast, despite her reservations as a person. She kept to herself, but she would readily pour herself into the lap of another. Zez chewed on her bottom lip, feeling more alone than ever. She reached over for her satchel. The stuffed rabbit looked at her.

Zez picked the toy up, running her fingers over the silky ears. The flap to the tent flipped open and she shoved it back into the bag. Instead of Zanya sticking her head into the tent, Esphina peered in. Her blue eyes narrowed.