Wen curled her hands into fists, breathing deeply and out through her nose. She couldn't bare to open her mouth — maybe the vulture would snap a hand at her jawline, and what happened to Henry Withrew would happen to her... but she was just a girl with a weird last name and pale-no-good hair! One. Wen willed herself to make the first move; to show she were not weak.
"I fought your dwarf, the leader of his gang!" She seeped. "What I hate is you..." and she hook-kicked at the woman, standing up, foot landing squarely between Euginie's legs. She howled, and threw a pebble sharp and hard at Wen's spare arm, which was left sitting by her thigh, ready to act, and she sprang out with a palm in front of her, letting the small stone graze her fingers.
Blood oozed out. But I am blood... I am the Wena, I am — and then the girl tensed. She pulled back. She let her fists fall. I am no Wen. I am blood. I am Wena, and that is my name! "I am Wena of Earth, and you — shall be killed! Pathetic scum! Vulture! Call-girl..." because she'd heard her father use that word when he scolded Ksenia; she once came home, bruised and crying, and told them all why, in tears and torn and broken.
"Calv told me to come over spend a night with him, at his Papa's house, and when I came... he... said I was too bad for his son, and we got into a hell of a conversation, and then he said that... that... he would give me money if I left, and I NEED some for my car, so he gave me a thousand..."
Wena bolted for the woman. She slid down, ducking under the feet of the woman, and she could smell sweat suddenly, and felt it on her brow as she came up on the other side. Gothcha. Two. She pushed Euginie into the grave in front of them, using all her eleven-year-old might to do so. Hell, she was like a grown fourteen-year-old boy, despite her more-or-less slim figure and gentle, carefree attitude. The bull had risen, oh yes it had - and it rocked down below in her belly and roared and along with her inner master. She was... she was a Catyr.
A Catyr was a sort of creature, all scales and fins like a fish's, it's body a sort of Pom-Pom. The eyes were very small and black, glistening, moist, glazed-over. It was believed to be a creature from the stories of old - and, every night, when the crescent rose the Catyr would leap up and chew off a bit, as if it were cheese, for it was a stupid creature who was always hungry - and that explained why sometimes we could not see the moon.
Yes, Wen's soul was a Catyr - she was always hungry, but fierce, and did what she intended to, and looked not the best with her mattered curly head... but she was fine. Slim as a cat... she ducked. Swift as a Wena... and she box-blocked, with a crescent-kick ending the balance of Euginie, who had just managed to stood up and wipe away the dirt. Quiet as a snake...
But she bolted. She bolted and she ran, because she was scared and she was tired and her legs hurt and there were scars on her hands and knees, and the darned creature swiped a long stick down, below her stomach. And her hair was all a mess, of course greasy, and the dress... hell! The new Wena stripped down and faced, nude, the woman in front of her. It was a rare sight. She would never leave her ground. Not today...
She ran to get to the bag. Ran, ran swiftly - quickly - and she sighed, relieved, when she had time to put on her underwear and old flower print dress. She'd worn it at her friend's funeral. But... she'd pay her respects later!! Turning around... Euginie was close, sharp knife in hand. Where did she get that??
"Give me the pink quartz," she told Wena. Give it, or... I will slit open your throat!" The dagger had looked rather menacing, shining bright, pommel all twisted with iron of old and looking like a holy gift from a god of some sort. Especially the glow of a sort of evil magic - as if a theumaturgist - a sort of sorcerer - a necromancer - had cast some style of a spell.
Wen glared. She... had ran. She was not Wena. Just as other people like Eddy aren't even in their fanciest dreams Edda. And Ksenia would never be Kseniwe or Ksenied. And she... she wasn't Wena. She wasn't some sort of hero-girl from a cringe tv-show with an extra letter added to her name. Just as... just as... Val could be Vala. But she wouldn't DARE try be like Val. For she was not that person.
Just as she was an extrovert.
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