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“What is—” Vinestaff panted, having held her ground for far too long. All her frustration had bubbled up into one little yell: “Your problem?”
She could see the being stop descending, and that didn’t reassure her much. Dealing with a fight for almost thirty minutes straight wasn’t the sort of thing to put her in a good mood.
There were sprouts all over the arena the two had been brawling in, and there were scratches from sharper petals all over the being.
With a long sigh, she felt a bit of pity for it. This thing was angry.
Being trapped in someone’s domain wasn’t too good either.
“Any words?”
“Apologies.”
How grateful was she for that?
“Right.” It took a lot of stretching and sprouting for her to fix her joints back into place. Being so heavily damaged convinced her there wasn’t a chance her ‘enemy wasn’t injured as well.
“I believed—” The other girl stared at her for a long moment, seeming so utterly guilty as she went: “Inphernals aren’t typically the ones to come here.”
“I still don’t know why I’m here!”
“I need interaction.”
So some deity- no, she didn’t know the word- creature decided she’d been the perfect person for talking.
Vinestaff could hardly talk to other Inphernals without rambling about a topic only she’d enjoy or going quiet from her lack of social battery.
How’d she ascend the stairway to a deity so fast?
“Again, sorry. I can’t imagine this is any less overwhelming for you.”
“Doesn’t fix a lot.”
Her eyes narrowed in on the apparel of the thing before her, reluctantly giving in to the attempts to make this a normal interaction.
“Venus flytrap-themed, yes?”
“Hah?”
“Is your jacket based on a Venus flytrap?”
“Oh, yes.”
How ironic was that? Vinestaff didn’t consider herself a fly, but the concept of one carnivorous plant being what’d nearly taken her out felt too much like the universe’s prank on her.
“What flower are you?”
“There’s multiple that I like.” She had to keep pausing herself in the middle of speaking, blinking before eventually grumbling, “Can I have a name to call you?”
“Doomsekkar.”
This was a watcher.
Was this interaction meant to be one considered honorable, or should she continue it in fear? People would fight to get this close to someone who knew a deity! Not even knew, a deity’s creation.
But her way of fighting was against it.
Gosh, she couldn’t speak properly.
“Well, Doomsekkar, can I go home?”
That mask hid too many emotions for her to tell the instant reaction, and she grumbled quiet curses under her breath when she realized that wasn’t a pause for consideration.
Doomsekkar had gone quiet to calculate how much longer she’d keep her here, didn’t she—
“Ten minutes?”
This was someone desperate for interaction.
She’d been there multiple times in her life.
“Make it fifteen,” Vinestaff grumbled, sitting down on the concrete before adding an extra condition, “But check if there’s a proper way to release me from this first.”
“I know how to.”
So quick to respond.
“If you only want me here to talk, can I have- I don’t know- a few topics you want to talk about?”
She didn’t like talking to people she didn’t know, but pity and empathy as a healer had put her in a variety of situations before.
Especially at Phestivals. She didn’t want to think about that.
“You like plants?”
Doomsekkar wouldn’t allow herself to be the focus for five seconds. Fine, she could ramble about plants.
Vinestaff nodded, softening herself upon seeing the other sit down in front of her.
It didn’t take a lot to realize someone was willing to listen.
“What faction are you with?”
“None.”
“Let me correct myself, then.” Doomsekkar paused, clearly struggling to find wording before saying, “Which region?”
“Thieves’ Den.”
There was a much more curious energy in the other’s voice as she started back up with her questions, her mask no longer concealing much:
“Is the plant life there interesting? Would you have recommendations about the area?”
The curiosity had given Vinestaff her own question.
“When was the last time you were out of this?”
“Not the point. Very long.”
That made more sense.
No wonder she’d started the encounter off so hostilely, then.
With a tiny exhale, she started herself up, “The plants in Thieves’ Den are harder to raise, but the majority of them are inphernal-eating. It’s not the best place for tourists, considering the Darkage Clan’s treatment.”
“Meaning?”
“I lived in a jungle until my brothers had saved up enough for an apartment in the Crossroads.”
The words came off her tongue with ease. She’d never talked about her background much to others, but who would some deity have to share that info with?
“I observed an area like that.”
Doomsekkar didn’t look much like anyone from Thieves’ Den, and she couldn’t think of many other places that’d have that much jungle life—
“Playground?”
That’s what Vinestaff would expect. The moment she’d thought about it, she knew she’d be right.
“Yes!”
The surprise on the watcher’s face had almost taken her off guard too. She thought it’d be relatively obvious, but then again, there was no way for this girl to know about regions besides her own.
“My brothers like some guys from there,” she mumbled, messing with the sleeve of her kimono before catching herself.
This girl had tried to kill her in some rage-induced haze. There was no reason for her to put her family in danger, too, explaining herself to her.
“Really? I haven’t watched over the area in a while, considering-” Doomsekkar cut herself off.
They’d had a similar realization, hadn’t they?
The two of them were blinking at each other, both being paused and having nothing else to say. There wasn’t a lot that they could do.
Vinestaff could share more of her own history, but the overwhelming dread that’d come in once she remembered that battle didn’t help.
Many of her flowers were still somewhat twitching at the roots, having been sprouted in her haste to heal herself.
“You don’t want to be kept longer than those fifteen minutes, do you?”
One small, quiet nod again.
“I can’t blame you.”
Doomsekkar balled up her fists, still sat in front of the other and looking more focused. If that tense body posture said anything to Vinestaff, she was being evicted soon.
“If I’m able to prove I’m not willing to kill you— would you find me again?”
That was an awfully hopeful tone of voice.
Vinestaff considered it, much to her dismay. She needed to be less easily swayed.
This was someone who tried to kill her. It was also someone who was overly willing to listen to her ramble about plants, her life, or anything in general.
“I don’t even know how I found you today.”
“Then I could find you.”
That’s not threatening or scary whatsoever.
She was quiet, only staring before mumbling, “If you intend to, bring me a plant and I’ll think about talking more.”
That was blackmail.
To be real, Vinestaff enjoyed an opportunity to talk so freely about herself to someone who wouldn’t judge her for it.
Even if that was someone whose social skills had likely been impaired by years of being trapped inside a sword deity’s cage.
But that much didn’t matter!
“Deal, then.” Doomsekkar had grabbed her hand for a pinky promise before she could protest, and Vinestaff could hardly hear her own gasp before there was a long feeling of falling.
Back in the library, except now, there was one small Venus flytrap inside the bag she’d been keeping for her books.
Living proof that it hadn’t been a hallucination.
For someone who’d accidentally made herself nervous, she was willing to accept this fate.
Which meant returning to the library and waiting in front of that book a week later, willingly becoming stuck in the same area.
Doomsekkar had freed herself, according to her words; there was no chance she’d interact with Vinestaff in public.
And by all means, that was fine.
All their interaction at all was what she needed.