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“He’s getting stronger and stronger. Concerningly so,” Chase mused aloud as the colors swirled in his scrying orb. The Prince of Darkness was stretched out casually on his throne, with one hand resting on the arm of the structure, the other petting through the fur of one of the jungle cats near his feet.
He watched from a distance through the eyes of his spying crow as the little monk did his ridiculous signature victory and hugged the Rainbow Star to his chest. A particularly useless trinket, even as far as Shen Gong Wu went. The battle to claim it had been incongruously impressive, though. “Compared to just a year ago, he’s gotten so much faster, smarter, more powerful... If I can’t lure Omi over to my side soon, I may truly have to—”
“—‘Destroy him,’” Wuya finished mockingly in an exaggeratedly dramatic voice. She groaned in annoyance, dragging her hand down her face. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that song and dance before.”
He waved his hand over the orb to stop the flow of images. The all-seeing eye blinked and withered away. “…Are you calling me toothless?” Chase growled out, baring his fangs.
Wuya rolled her eyes, unimpressed at the implicit threat from the younger immortal.
This truce that lay between her and Chase didn’t sit well with her at times, but all she had to do was endure it until the time she could find a way to overtake him and take her rightful place on the throne. She hated being patient, but she wasn’t incapable of it. She knew how to bide her time and put up with idiots. At times like she, though, her frustrations with him reached a boiling point.
Her green eyes glowered as she snapped at the younger immortal with a sneer, displaying her own sharp teeth. “You might as well be, when it comes to Omi.” The word was spat from the witch’s mouth like the most disgusting word in the English language. She made a face like it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Chase’s face fell flat, tone dry and dead as he stated, “…Ah. So that’s what this is about.” As if he was declaring this discussion over on his own, he lounged back on his throne, an ankle crossed over his knee and his head tilted back to rest against the throne. Posture relaxed yet confident, like one of the panthers sprawled across the tree branches in the volcanic palace.
“What? You’re just gonna drop the whole argument and give up?”
Chase shook his head dismissively, even yawned for good effect. “I’ve told you this before. You don’t understand the matter, so stop questioning it. It’s a waste of both of our times.”
“Like either of us are short on time,” She rolled her eyes again. “And there’s nothing to understand about your obsession with Omi, because it’s pure insanity, plain and simple.”
“You know nothing about him,” he stated matter-of-factly. As if she didn’t run into the little cheeseball before he’d ever laid eyes on him, while Chase was still holed up doing absolutely nothing in this volcano of his. The only reason he crawled out of his little hole now was because he was so afraid or so enthralled by that little brat.
She scoffed. “I know this; You care way too much about a boy who was supposed to just be a means to power for you. You’ve gotten too attached. All these convoluted plans to get him on your side, and you’ve never once made a single plan with the end goal of actually destroying the little cheeseball.”
Chase’s fist clenched at his side. “It hasn’t come to that. I can’t afford to be too hasty. I still have time to win him over before—”
He was cut off for a second time when a fist flew at his face, and he lifted a hand to catch it on reflex.
The jungle cats at his side growled at the physical escalation, but Chase silently called them off. There intentionally wasn’t much force thrown behind the blow, despite the admittedly remarkable speed with which she closed the distance between them. She’d apparently only wanted to be close enough to sneer right in his face when she said quietly, “Even if he really does get stronger than you, even if he was holding a weapon to your throat, you could never work up the nerve to destroy your precious little protégé. You’d sooner let him destroy you. You’d roll over belly-up and not even realize you were pulling your punches until it was too late.”
Chase let go of her hand and, with a gesture, she was pushed back by an unseen force. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm, but his tone held a defensive edge. “It won’t come to that. Omi wouldn’t…” He caught himself and cleared his throat. “I will not let it come to that.”
If it weren't for the one waver in his countenance or the flicker of hesitation in his voice, Wuya might have believed that he at least bought it himself. “You’ve gone soft. And soft in the head, too. Face it.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’ve fallen for the charms of some puny, annoying baldheaded goody-two shows monk that you thought you had dancing in the palm of your hand. Now you’re the one dancing to his beat.”
The accusation hung heavy in the air.
The silence was broken when a low chuckle spilled from Chase, tumbling and rolling until it filled up the room. He rose to his feet, but he didn't look angry anymore. He looked amused. In fact, he was smirking like he knew something Wuya didn’t.
“…That reminds me, actually.” His tone shifted into something more manipulative, causing Wuya’s eyes to narrow. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I haven’t been sure how to bring it up… tactfully. But you’ve just provided me with the perfect segue for it.”
Muted footsteps approached her, indolently taking their stride across over the marble floor. He came to a stop right beside her, voice lowered to a whisper.
“Why did you never make any real attempts to kill Dashi?”
She looked up to see Chase’s mouth set in a self-satisfied grin, but both her expression and her voice were deadpan when she spat back, “What?”
Chase shrugged. “It just seemed to me like you had an plenty of chances. More than enough alone time around him with his guard dropped, too. You’re not weak, and you’re not foolish, either. And you’re not particularly honorable. And yet, you never even managed to so much as slit his throat while his guard was down, despite all that power you boast. …Well, boasted, in any case. Why is that? Unless…”
Chase gave her an almost impish grin as he continued, and Wuya couldn’t help but see him as that cocky little tagalong at Dashi’s side like he used to be when he made a face like that. An ignorant child that understood nothing and thought he knew everything; that’s all he was, she reminded herself.
“Don’t tell me you were pulling your punches for him, even at the very end? Did you go soft for the charms of some puny, annoying baldheaded goody-two shows monk that you thought you had dancing in the palm of your hand?”
She sneered as his bark of laughter filled the whole room. “You’re even more delusional than I thought you were.”
“Say, if he were still alive,” Chase asked once his laughter finally died down. “I wonder if you could even kill him now. Did it break your heart a little bit that when you emerged from the puzzle box, he had already died of ‘natural’ causes centuries ago?”
Wuya said in nothing in response, not by words and not by violence; her only reply came by way of the slight narrowing of her eyes and the tensing of her shoulders.
“…Perhaps the reason I’m trying to be so cautious is to avoid the mistakes I watched you make, in your prime,” Chase said, returning to his usual reserved demeanor. “Failure is the best teacher, but it’s a lesson best learned from others’.”
Another silence settled over the cold war of a conversation, permeating the air a beat too long.
With little more to say, Chase walked past her and made his way out of the throne room. A gaggle of his cats hopped up to scamper along behind their master.
“I look forward to watching that kid be your undoing,” she said, and heard his footsteps falter. “I want a front row seat when all this comes back to bite you in the ass.”
“…You have all the time in the world. If you’d like to waste it hoping for things that will never happen, be my guest.”