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There’s blood on her hands.
Mus breathes, in, out, in, out. Lungs burning as she drags in ragged breath after ragged breath. It clings beneath her fingernails and seeps into the creases in her palms. It almost looks like her flesh has been peeled back to expose the muscle and bone beneath. The image of an open wound painted on unscathed skin.
It's almost funny how spilled blood can make you look like you’re the one that’s bleeding. All it takes is a little touch of red and a killer can look like a victim. Mus snorts, she doesn’t know if that makes her want to laugh or cry.
In, out.
Her head is spinning, the world blurring before her watery eyes as she stares blankly at the hands that did the deed. The taste of copper lingers on her tongue, that awful smell polluting the crisp afternoon air with the taint of death.
Her breath hitches. Part of her wants to hold her breath, close her eyes and pretend. Pretend all is well, that she didn’t-
But if she closed her eyes she wouldn’t be able to see the sun shining overhead, if she held her breath all the time she wouldn’t be able to smell the flowers. If she didn’t listen then she wouldn’t be able to hear the birds chirping. If she didn’t speak she wouldn’t be able to sing.
But right now…. Right now she thinks she’d give up on music if it meant she didn’t have to hear the screams. Her victim’s…. Or her own.
In, out.
She promised herself she wouldn’t do this. Wouldn’t perpetuate the cycle that tears this world apart day by day.
Vintage’s blood, Marm’s blood… This is what it smells like, metallic and sharp. It's the same sickening scarlet, staining her hands and sweater exactly the same way. Friend or foe, it doesn’t matter.
Spilled blood, is spilled blood. No matter who it belongs to.
She just wants peace. She just wants her friends to be safe, is that too much to ask?
Her legs threaten to give out beneath her as she stumbles over the grassy ground, allowing herself to collapse against her humble shack.
Mus peels her eyes open, bile creeping up her throat at the sight of the trail of red left in her wake. She swallows hard, She hadn’t realized she’d even closed them in the first place, even for a moment. She didn’t notice that she’d turned away from the light.
She’s supposed to be better than this!
She’s the Mayor of Spawn Town, the leader of this sacred place of safety. She can’t be breaking her own rules like this, giving into bloodlust and hypocrisy. She needs to be an example for the others, of what people can be when they choose to do good.
She groans, gritting her teeth in the simple determination to stay standing as her knees begin to shake.
She needs to be better than those who saw an offer of safety and took the opportunity to kill.
This wasn’t even for her bounty, is the worst part. She didn’t get anything from this, nothing at all.
It was pure, senseless violence, just like Milkman said at the start. She wasn’t attacked, she had no reason to do it, yet here she is.
She’s just as bad as the rest of them.
If it were her bounty would it be any better? If there was a reason, if she had something to gain? She gulps. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know, she doesn’t know-
“Mus?” A hushed shout jolts her from her thoughts, terror sinking its claws deep into her heart as her trembling hands reflexively reach for the sword she discarded in a panic.
She blinks, swallowing the lump of shame caught in her throat like a stone as she forces herself to relax. She winces as the sunlight hits her eyes. When did she close them?
“Mus, are you ok?” Oh. Her breath hitches. Viking’s mismatched eyes stare back at her, expression creased with concern, his brow furrowed and mouth set in a thin line.
“I’m…. alright.” She croaks, the tension draining from her body as it sinks in that this is her friend here to protect her and not an enemy cornering her at the heart of her own home. “Just a little bit shaken up.” A little bit is… a bit of an understatement, she’ll admit, but just because she doesn’t like killing doesn’t mean she won’t lie a little bit.
Viking frowns, but he doesn’t push. It's something Mus likes about him, he knows when to press, and when to give her the space to breathe.
“Everyone’s left now,” He starts, voice even, speaking to her much the way one would to an injured animal, “Run along home back to their bases or off to go get their kills in and what not. I messaged Vintage after the chaos started to die down a bit, she and Marm should be back soon too. Vintage at least seemed pretty worried when I told her what’d happened.”
Mus shoots him a shaky nod, letting out a trembling exhale as she takes in what he said. Everyone left. No more shouting and screaming and arguing-
She’s supposed to be the one to deal with that. As Mayor its her job to settle disputes and-
“Shhhh, I can practically hear you overthinking.” Viking murmurs, stepping closer to rest a firm hand on her shoulder. There’s a levity to his voice, Mus finds, a hearty chuckle that backs his words regardless of the situation. It's… nice. A little bit of happiness never hurt, even on the battlefield where few can seem to find it. Even her, apparently.
She leans into the grounding touch, forcing herself to meet his gaze. His shadow shields her from the sun. The world is a lot easier to bear without the blinding light.
“Uh, yeah,” She breathes. It feels as though there's a noose constricting around her throat, choking her words before they have a chance to reach her lips. “That's… that’s good.” She offers him a shaky nod.
Viking gives her shoulder a squeeze, drawing back slightly. The daylight glints off his signature goggles as they sit slightly askew on his head, sweeping over his face to reveal the freckles of red trailing up his cheek. Pale skin stained with the touch of blood.
He tilts his head to the side, his sweater shifting down his shoulder to reveal a jagged cut across the base of his neck.
Mus finds herself unable to tear her gaze away from the wound, breaths growing shallow as she watches crimson seep through the white of his shirt. It was a close call. Too close.
Viking could have lost a life today.
Mus’s friend could have died today.
His eyes narrow for half a second, expression softening as he follows her eyes. “Hey, I’m fine. Tis but a flesh wound, nothing more!”
Mus nods. He’s fine, he’s fine; but… if he hadn’t been so quick on his feet, if his attacker was just ever just so slightly more strategic- He might not have been.
“Hey, how about we head inside, huh?” Viking suggests softly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sit down for a bit?”
“Alright,” She answers weakly with a slight nod of her head.
Viking lifts his hand from her shoulder, taking a step back to offer an arm for her to lean on.
Mus shoots him a grateful look, practically tripping over her own feet as she shifts forward to brace herself against him.
He smiles fondly at her as they find their balance, snickering softly under his breath. She finds herself smiling back, snorting softly in amusement as they hobble inside.
Mus collapses against the wall as they lower themselves to the ground, a weary sigh wrenching itself free of her chest as relief washes over her. Viking sits down at her side, stretching out his legs with a soft grunt as he leans back against the wall.
They fall into an almost companionable silence as they sit together in the dark. It's a heavy kind of quiet, like a weighted blanket of pure nothingness. All she can hear is the steady beat of her own heart as it begins to slow, and the wind whistling outside. No voices, no screams. Just peace.
It's kinda nice, honestly. To take the time to just be amidst the violence and carnage of the game they play. To be anything but alone when the world was designed to divide them all.
She can feel Vikings eyes on her, his troubled gaze silently picking her apart. It feels as though he can see right through her, every little white lie and every bluff. Every time she said ‘I’m fine’ and ‘it's ok’ and ‘I don’t care’. Every time she’s claimed that she knows what she wants, when she has no idea how to play this game without defying her own ideals, and she wants to try. Even if she doesn’t think she stands a chance.
She gulps. The quiet hangs over them like a guillotine about to fall, begging her to speak before she chokes. She shivers. She’s just afraid that if she opens her mouth all she’ll be able to do, is scream.
All she can hear is Viking’s breathing beside her, slow and steady in contrast with her own staggering breaths. Both still breathing, after everything. Both alive. He’s waiting for her to speak first, offering her the one thing nobody ever seems to have enough of, time. Time to gather her words and barings, to catch her breath.
She lets her eyes flutter shut, prying her clenched jaw open so she can breathe easier. She can do this. It feels as though she’s gripping a shard of shrapnel lodged in her heart, preparing to spill her guts all over the grassy floors, if only to put to words the guilt and shame clawing her up from within.
“I… just. I guess I feel so bad about it because… I don’t feel as guilty as I think I should feel.” Mus starts slowly, voice shaking, tired eyes fixed on her lap as she fidgets with her fingers. “I killed someone, that blood is on my hands and it wasn’t even for a bounty either. I wasn’t playing the game. I didn’t have anything to gain. I just…” She pauses, sucking in a quivering breath, throat constricting around her words. “I wanted to protect Spawn Town, I wanted to protect you, and now…. I don’t know how to feel about that.”
She sighs, a worn, defeated sign, as she swallows her fear and forces herself to look up and meet his gaze. “I don’t know what’s worse… that I feel so bad about protecting the things I care about, or that I don’t feel bad enough about taking a life.”
“Mus,” Viking says her name like a promise as he reaches out a hand. Careful fingers tease open one of her shaky fists so that he can clasp their hands together. “Mus, we’re friends right?”
Her heart stutters, “Yeah! Of course we’re friends!” They grip his hand harder, as if it will somehow keep him from leaving if that’s what he decides.
Viking nods, “Yeah! We’re friends!” He confirms with a smile, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect your friends. Nothing at all. You did what you had to do, Mus. You did the right thing.”
She swallows hard. “I…. guess.” Her eyes fall to the ground, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze. He sounds so certain of it too. How can he be so sure?
Viking draws back slightly, a frown flitting across his face almost too quick to catch. “Hey… Look at me.” He squeezes her hand. “You are… so good, Mus. You’re doing the impossible, you know? Trying to be peaceful in a game like this, but you can’t be peaceful if you can’t do some damage, nah, then you’re just harmless.”
Mus blinks, looking up at him, making herself meet his gaze. The faint flickering of the torchlight makes his eyes glint in the shadows, like those of a predator, but his expression is soft, fondness written across his face as his eyes drill into her.
“I mean, yeah.” She stammers, nodding along. “I suppose.”
Viking smiles encouragingly, “See? You just proved that you’re not harmless, you’re peaceful. It's a choice you made, not some excuse to hide behind. You’re the Mayor of Spawn Town! It's your job to protect this place of peace, and that is what you did. That wasn’t senseless violence, you saved me. That’s what a good Mayor, or a good friend, would do.” Mus nods slowly.
“You saw your friend was in danger, and you acted. They were the one who tried to turn our home into a battlezone, you just showed them that there are consequences for walking in here and trying to paint the town red! Now, that's how a good leader would act if I’ve ever seen one!”
He’s right. Mus breathes. She was just protecting her place, her people. They brought the fight to her, if anything it's their fault she had to intervene.
“They attacked a citizen of Spawn Town on peaceful ground!” Viking continues, his passionate words making her heart beat stronger, “One of this town’s protectors. That’s not your fault.” Viking shifts closer, “You made it abundantly clear that no blood was to be shed here. They just didn’t listen.” He chuckles, darkly, “You did the right thing, to put them in their place like you did.”
Mus presses into his side, fingers biting into his calloused palm as she holds his hand in a crushing grip. It's true. She didn’t break the truce, she didn’t break the rules of Spawn Town. She enforced them. That's what a Mayor does. That's her job, her duty.
“You see, when people refuse to listen to you like that, sometimes you’ve gotta…. Give them a little ‘nudge’ in the right direction….” Viking grins, “That's all you did. You gave them a little ‘nudge’, nothing more.”
She nods. “Yeah… if they won’t listen to us when we tell them this Town is off limits… then how is it our fault we have to make them listen? This was a warning.” She breathes, “A warning.”
“Yeah! A warning.” Viking nods, grin growing with his pride. He presses his shoulder into hers, before falling quiet for a long moment, staring out into the distance. Mus’s face falls, concern twisting her heart as she watches on, giving him a moment to gather his words.
“You know….” He trails off with a sigh, the smile sliding off his face. “I never did thank you for saving my life back there.” he chortles softly, “Thank you, Mus, you’re a good friend, you know that?” He beams down at her.
Mus huffs, a warm, tingly feeling rising to the surface as a shy smile lays claim to her lips. “Well I try!” She grins back at him.
“You do a good job!” He insists, smiling brighter by the second.
“I…. guess I do.” Mus nods, turning her eyes to their clasped hands. “You know… Viking.” She starts, “If there’s anything this world has taught me, it's that peace has a price. I didn’t really understand that before, I just wanted the screaming to stop.” She grits her teeth, clenched fists beginning to shake with fury as she thinks back to the night that set her on this path. “But… I think I do now. I think I get it.” She pauses, letting the silence drag on as she lets her own words soak in. “I did the right thing today, and while I don’t want to. I will do it again if I must.”
“It's the price of peace.” Viking agrees with a nod.
“Yeah,” A smile curls across Mus’ lips, her expression softening, “And it's one we’ll pay together if we must.”
“Always, we’re blood-bonded, remember?” Viking holds up their joined hands, “Any cost, any price, any challenge, we face it together.”
Mus nods as he lets their hands fall back to their laps. “Together.”
The blood has begun to dry, painting lines of rust up her palms and crusting beneath her nails. Viking’s hand is stained red now too fingers stained by her actions when he chose to take her hand.
Viking is here with her. Listening to her, hearing her out, supporting her.
And there’s blood on his hands.