And now we come to the sad, sad saga of Buff Drinklots -- I remembered to look up his name!-- the bandit who got scammed by the Unsavory Charlatan. I hope you've learnt your lesson, Buff.
"BUFF HAVE LEARNT LESSON."
Glad to hear it.
"BUFF DUMP BITTEN COIN INVESTMENT. BUFF INVESTING IN SOMETHING BETTER."
Oh no.
"BUFF INVEST IN ETHEREUM NOW."
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laying a soft pretty feather over a nasty mark on his body during a quiet, intimate little moment: “how did you get this scar?”
Flashback time !
She was always so g e n t l e.
Even after all this time, her touch was still as soft as ever. Sometimes he wondered if it was a trick of his imagination; like a broken connection in his brain mistook it from a breeze. To be handled so delicately made him feel the need to squirm—something he didn’t understand. He could take a punch like a champ, but this? It was unexpected every single time.
Nate turned his head, just barely making out the tip of a raised scar by his left shoulder blade. beneath a large pheasant feather.
“Oh, that?”
He’d never gotten a good look at it; most of the time he forgot it was there. Rainy days would sometimes bring a dull ache, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The thought alone made him feel stiff, and he gave his shoulder a rounded stretch for good measure.
“That’s old. A year, at least.” Maybe even more—it was hard to be sure of the time that passed here. Days and people came and went, fading into the next as they disappeared. The only concrete evidence he had of time passing at all was the baby fat that had vanished from Fiona’s face in his former life.
He could feel her hazel eyes boring into the scar on his shoulder, and he knew that brushed-off answer wouldn’t sate her curiosity. “Well…”
***
They called him Carnival.
Nate never knew his real name. In fact, he learned quickly that real names didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t have to go by the alias your parents came up for you when you were a baby. You could be whoever you wanted to be (though it was often Peter who would bestow the actual nickname as he saw fit).
With his large, jolly form and shaggy red hair, Carnival had seemed friendly at first. He didn’t mind showing him the ropes, how things worked, and Nate was grateful to be taken under someone’s wing. It seemed like he was really getting the hang of things.
That is, until their first game of Battle.
Peter had thought it would be fun to pair Nate up with his semi-mentor in head-to-head combat. Can’t let your emotions getting the best of you, he said. This was only a game--but out there, it was kill-or-be-killed, and there was only one way to prepare.
Nate, wanting to impress his savior, took the game of Battle seriously. Carnival, clearly a veteran with low expectations of the newbie, let down his guard. It was all too easy for Nate to strike.
It was only a flesh wound—a bloody nose and some bruises—but the boy clearly hadn’t liked losing, not to mention to someone so green.
He didn’t take offense that Carnival avoided him for the rest of the day. Losing was hard, and Battle was anybody’s game; Nate just got lucky.
“You better watch out,” one of the other Boys told him after.
It wasn’t until nightfall that he learned what they had meant.
He awoke with a gasp. His left shoulder tingled, like a thousand needles poking him at once. He tried to turn around, but a firm hand pushed him down, keeping him flat on his stomach.
“What’s wrong?" Carnival sneered, digging the knife into his skin. "Not gonna fight back? But you’re so good at that.”
Nate tried to wiggle out of his grasp, letting out a groan as warm liquid slowly oozed down his back. He grasped frantically at the dirt beneath his fingernails. Was breathing always this hard? He wasn’t getting enough air. Air, air. He willed the oxygen from the grass into his lungs. Faster and faster he breathed, each inhale shallower than the last. “I---“ I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I--
A voice echoed in the distance: “Did I give you permission to kill him?”
He felt like he was underwater, or maybe it was everyone else who was drowning.
***
Things got fuzzy from there. After that, he just remembered the pain, and the heaviness--oh, so heavy. Even after Carnival disappeared, he never got over the weight in his chest that night.
He shook his head of the memory. It had been a long time since he thought about that.
Not wanting to lie, but certainly not wanting to frighten her, he chose his words carefully.
“…I just got on somebody’s bad side.” He threw her a glance and a soft smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Something like that’ll never happen to you.”
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