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Strikeback falls.
That’s a lie, of course, and Felix banishes its echo from his brain: Strikeback was murdered, and he watched it happen. He thinks of Icarus, of towers and wings and the searing touch of the sun; he thinks they got too close to him, and paid the ultimate price.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but his words are nothing more than embers in the wind: he’d do it all over again, if he had to.
Felix shakes some sense into his mind: he’ll need all the calm — or appearance thereof — he can muster for this next step. Just a few more days, a couple of weeks at most, and Adrien will be free from the brooch, free from the rings that burn under his suit; free from a world built by their masters.
His uncle’s mansion isn’t far: he can make it before Ladybug detransforms. Felix takes a breath, maps out the labyrinth of rooftops ahead, and leaps.
That’s when the tornado wraps around him.
“What are you sorry for, Flairmidable?”
Shit. It’s Ryuko.
She’s got him pinned to the wall, a firm grip around his wrist and shoulder, and he’s not sure how to get out of this one: the draught solidifies, scarlet over jet over gold, and stares him down through slit pupils.
“Hey there.” Felix summons his model smile, the one he stole from Adrien. “I was just getting to the rendez-vous point a little early.”
“You were not.” Her frown opens wide, uncovering pearly teeth, and — does she have fangs? He’s pretty sure these are fangs. “Why didn’t you help us trap the Sentimonster?”
“Seemed to me the Turtle and Horse had the situation under control.” Then, ignoring the twist of his stomach: “what are you doing so far from the battlefield?”
Ryuko keeps quiet, studying her target; Felix studies her too, trailing the elegant shape of her mask, the way it fades into her hair. In the back of his mind, a memory dances.
“I’ve seen you before,” he breathes out, magic coursing through his veins. “Have I not?”
Surprise illuminates the golden eyes, but that’s not all they hold: something else glows there too, something that looks suspiciously like longing. Felix should make good use of that distraction — throw her off balance, escape her grip, rip her choker off.
Except, for once in his life, he doesn’t feel trapped.
“You do not look like the other heroes,” Ryuko remarks, and her voice falters almost imperceptibly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You do not look like a villain, either.”
“Are those my only two options?”
She blinks — a sideways, reptilian blink. It looks a little too pretty on her, a little too much like it belongs there.
“Just a second ago, you were a gust of wind,” Felix probes, dog ears twitching of their own volition. “Can you be other things?”
“I am a warrior before anything else.”
“Yet you haven’t unsheathed your sword.” Ryuko trembles; her touch turns feather-like, like she wants to run, like she’s scared of leaving marks. “I think you should come with me.”
“And why would I do that?”
It’s a plea, not an accusation. Felix breathes her in, orange blossom tickling his tongue; or perhaps it is Barkk’s power, radiating from the dip of his neck.
“Maybe you could teach me about shapeshifting,” he hums, and his grin morphs into a smile. “Maybe I could show you a few tricks of my own.”