For the most part, Ruth and Daisy remained silent as they walked down the corridors of the medical facility, gazing at the overhead lanterns that flickered in random intervals. Daisy turned her head, swallowing her spit as she began to speak.
"That wasn't cool, y'know."
Ruth's hands, which were stuffed in her pockets, twitched and clenched until they turned white. Her gaze remained on the lanterns, but she felt a strange inclination to look at her lover. After a few moments, Ruth replied with some hesitancy.
"Does the kid not know I'm joking? In my honest opinion, he totally overreacted."
Her footsteps grew more insistent and noisy as she made her way down the corridors. "Betram would've laughed his ass off and drank with us, but that Zachary boy just acted like a little baby."
Ruth's lips curled into a smile that twitched on the edges, as if she were planning something. "He's either a goodie-two-shos or a straight up coward—even Damien drinks more than him, and he's like ...what, ten?"
Daisy paused in her tracks, huffing loudly as she tucked her hair into a ponytail. "You should apologize for that shit you pulled."
Ruth snickered, turning back to the other girl with a smile. "Why the hell should I? In this stupid building it's who's smart and who's dumb that gets to live. Zachary was too dumb to know I was kiddin' with him, so why should I say I'm sorry he has the social skill of an apple!"
"Because I know he's sad inside, and I think he can help us!" Daisy snapped back, clenching her fists.
"The hell are you saying?" Ruth crossed her arms over her chest.
"Didn't you find Zachary and Damien inside our room?"
"Yeah, I did."
Daisy stepped a little closer, leaning in closer to Ruth with an almost conspiratorial whisper. "I think I remember what happened while he was in there with us."
Daisy took a deep breath and kept speaking. "For some reason, that boy has these weird abilities, like those Angels and Gods we hear about in stories—like the ones your father always told you."
Upon hearing this, Ruth fell silent. Then, she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter. "Y-you're joking, right?"
"No I'm not dumbass," Daisy planted a sharp slap to Ruth's cheek, causing the other girl to wince.
"That Zachary boy could grow these weird, glowy horns on his head. If I remember correctly, you were there when they were still glowing and stuff!"
"I was? Maybe I was stoned or something," Ruth rolled her eyes, a small smirk still plastered on her face.
"Why do you think I'd believe this shit? And how the hell could it help us with our little monster issue?"
...
Isaiah Walls slowly sat down on the workbench, extending a hand and pulling over the corpse of a squirrel that had been pinned down to wood. As he lowered a pair of goggles over his eyes, everything around him suddenly magnified, almost to the extent where Isaiah could see each fibrous hair of the squirrel. The animal's eyes were wide open, yet they showed no sign of life.
At this moment, he heard a knock on his door. Isaiah couldn't help but flinch a little. He let out a low groan, pushing aside his items and standing up, slowly walking over the creaky floorboards to approach the door.
"If you're the landlord, I'd recommend just sliding it under the door. If it's someone I know, I've told you countless times not to bother me on days like this."
Not a noise sounded behind the door following the knock, and Isaiah felt his suspicion boil. The man slowly lifted the view-slit of the door, peering out into the hallway. A pair of black eyes looked back at him, shielded by rounded glasses. Strands of ink-black with a slight purple sheen cascaded down from the top of the individual's head.
Upon recognizing Catherine's visage, Isaiah rolled his eyes and opened the door, shooting her a bitter glance.
"Do you have the insolence of a lion?" He grumbled, adjusting the collar of his coat.
"Carter and I would like to speak to you," Catherine's tone sharply contrasted the scene, sharp, unwavering, yet containing an eerie, gentle undertone.
In her left hand, Catherine clutched a few bottles of alcohol. To her right, Carter stood with a small smile. His hands were tucked unassumingly behind his back.
"Depends on what you'd like to banter about; the last thing I'd want from you at this time is to schedule the next dinner party."
Catherine and Carter suddenly walked forward, entering the room without asking for permission. The black-haired woman set the bottles of alcohol down on his workbench, smiling softly.
"Why would I bring alcohol to your average conversation? It's a delicacy, not a spoil."
She then pulled out a chair from under the bench, positioning it to face Isaiah. Carter followed suit, doing the same with an almost casual air. Isaiah also sat down, now smiling softly as he reached for the bottle of alcohol.
"You bring the bottles, but no drinks. I must say, for all the times you've helped with dinner, I'm honestly shocked you came this unprepared."
Catherine let out a low chuckle, grabbing one of the bottles and opening the cork top. Without saying another word, she began to chug down the beverage. Isaiah's eyes widened as he watched this occur, the man's breath hitching in his chest.
"What the hell are you doing? Do you have the intelligence of a mole rat?"
She finished a few gulps and put the bottle back down, wiping the drink from her lips and smiling. "To be completely honest, maybe I do. But in my honest opinion, drinking a little more than the body can handle doesn't hurt every once in a while."
"You came here for a reason, and I want to know why." Isaiah didn't waste any more time, immediately switching the subject.
"Ahh..." Catherine took another sip of the alcohol, her smile twitching slightly.
"Wouldn't you say a good philosophical conversation is to be debated over some alcohol? I read somewhere that the more your mind unravels, the more the drink exposes your true thoughts, the deeper and more introspective the average conversation can get."
"I ...never thought about that," Isaiah couldn't help but uncharacteristically chuckle, grabbing a bottle of alcohol. At this moment, he unscrewed the cap and sniffed the nose of the bottle.
"Though I didn't know Night Vanilla was a popular ingredient in alcohol, does it make you fall asleep faster after drinking?"
Isaiah leaned back in his own chair, stretching his arms above his head. "I find it humorous how you attempt to sedate me with my own interests—philosophy and the human experience."
He suddenly pushed the bottle onto the floor, the glass exterior shattering, sending the dark-colored liquid wth traces of blue and purple all over the wooden floor. Isaiah looked back up at Catherine and Carter, smiling.
"Should we debate the contradictions of death and heaven, or should we get to business?"
Hearing Isaiah's question, Catherine and Carter both inexplicably tensed. Isaiah appeared to be having fun with this encounter, deducing their motives from the moment they entered his study. On top of that, Isaiah had the actual audacity to smile and laugh, as if enjoying this encounter. He had never smiled, not even at the most humorous of jokes being told in a drunken room.
Without any further banter, Catherine conjured two swords out of thin air, engraved with intricate patterns on the hilt and blades. Carter pulled out a small handgun, pointing it directly at Isaiah and firing a bullet. Isaiah, as if foreseeing this course of action, diffused and teleported to the other end of the room in an instant.
At this moment, he pulled out a small metal card from his pocket, pressing it against his palm. His countenance began to change the second this action was performed. The edges of his jawline slowly softened, almost to the extent of roundness, his height and stature decreased a few inches, and the length of his silver hair extended, draping his mid-section.
As Catherine's own appearance took hold of Isaiah, Carter's eyes widened as his grip on the trigger loosened slightly, his hands now trembling. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched.
"What the hell..."
Isaiah smirked, leaping forward and planting a sharp kick to Carter's lower regions. He howled in pain, collapsing to his knees in pain. In his disoriented vision, he observed Isaiah and Catherine fighting, though he couldn't exactly tell which Catherine was the one he had known and married. They were both clad in identical clothing, had identical faces, and identical fighting styles.
"A Card of Replication?" Carter recognized the object Isaiah had pulled out and used. He had long known Isaiah was a Seeker of the Puppeteer Pathway, and that at Order 8: Nimbletheft, had no correlation or abilities matching identity theft. Although theft was in the name, only Demi-god level existences could bother stealing or replicating people's identities and appearances.
No wonder Isaiah had to use the Card of Replication; it's the only way he could have stolen people's appearances without advancing too high!
Catherine continued to swing her twin blades at Isaiah, the man with long hair and a round face, effortlessly dodging the attacks.
Catherine continued to swing her twin blades at Isaiah, the man with long hair and a round face, effortlessly dodging the attacks. He moved like a living phantom, shifting and moving around with the agility of a prowling tiger. Her swings were collected and calculated, weaving past the shelves and animal corpses nestled on the shelves, only causing a jar filled with spider molts to shift slightly.
Isaiah dodged another attack, arching his back as if forming a bridge, and landing a precise kick to Catherine's chest, sending the woman back a step or two. Though she quickly collected her equilibrium and kept attacking, her duel-swords moved in unison as if one knew exactly where the other would go, making proper arrangements to weave past one and dodge the other, yet having the same goal of defeating their opponent.
Isaiah twisted his body, landing a direct punch to Catherine's face when both of her weapons failed to obscure her face or provide ample protection. He followed with more precise attacks, landing a kick to Catherine's left wrist, causing her to drop one of the weapons. Instead of moving to grab it, Isaiah kicked it to the other end of the room and chuckled.
"I don't believe in fighting in the olden ways, with swords and spears. We as humans won't go back to our hunting-and-gathering phase, won't we?"
Catherine didn't reply, chuckling to herself. She stood back up and wiped herself off, dodging Isaiah's next attack.
At this moment, Isaiah's face suddenly contorted with pain as the surface of his skin began to writhe and contort as if something was crawling underneath it. His hands moved to claw at his face, his teeth gritted in strained, macabre effort.
Seizing this opportunity, Catherine darted over to Isaiah, slicing her sword deep into his neck. Blood quickly spurt from the other end, coating the blade of the weapons. Catherine twisted the weapon deeper into him, her face an indifferent mask to the grotesque, violent action she was committing.
Carter watched from the sidelines, slowly regaining his equilibrium and taking a hold of his handgun. Suddenly, the air around Carter darkened, and the entire room dissipated into shadows. Beneath him, grass sprouted from the void, quickly rolling into hills and a green pasture that overlooked a lake, alongside a painted house that sat atop a hill.
From behind him, he heard laughter—from Catherine—and a voice he couldn't recognise. Carter slowly turned around, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the two people.
Catherine knelt in the garden, her hair not a dirty brown color, and her glasses were slightly ajar, slipping down the bridge of her nose. Her cheeks were stained with dirt, but the wet, salty stream of tears flowing down her face transformed the dark substance into mud. Among the rose and poppy garden, another person was laughing and running among the flowers, a young girl with blonde hair, green eyes, and freckles peppering her cheeks.
Jesibel laughed and sang to herself as she chased a brightly colored butterfly. Catherine suddenly turned her head, looking at Carter. Even if she was smiling and watching her daughter play, tears ran down her face at a quick rate.
"Look Carter, we're back home..."
Her voice was cheery and bright, yet trembling slightly.