"Mestre Damaso?" I stood before the cave, my hands folded. I ignored the wind and the cold, my head bent down a little out of respect for the spirits that I might cross. The moon was just barely a sliver in the sky, and I hoped that I didn't come too early.
I waited a bit and heard nothing.
Perhaps my voice was too soft for him to hear. I patted the edge of the dark stone entrance, hoping that he heard something before I wandered inside, rubbing my fingers together, making the walls glow a pleasant emerald green. It was a nervous habit that I found useful - my magic showed up only when I needed it, whether or not I knew that I did. I made no sound except for the polite shuffling of my feet, trying to alert the mestre that I was here.
"Senhor?" That was right, right? My fingers were flashing light, almost like a candle sputtering out. "Fuck." I tried clapping, and the light stayed consistent again. My feet started gliding on the stone now, feeling the path underneath me get smoother as I got in deeper. It wasn't long before I reached a dead end, the cave glittering prettily with my glowing hands.
I reached into my knapsack and checked my watch, rubbing my fingers again as I worriedly glanced at the glowing clock. Near midnight. When did his door open? I was getting impatient, wandering around in circles in that dead end.
My hands stopped glowing thirty seconds after, forcing me to be encased in darkness. I turned on a flashlight from my pack, worried about eating up the batteries.
Something huge creaked behind me, warm light poking out a bit from a widening door.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE-"
I jumped, hitting whatever it was as high and square as I could.
"Hu- Ow." Oh God. Whoever was in the grey hoodie was trying to cover their eyes - Jesus Christ, I injured and blinded them. I lowered it a bit downwards, coughing awkwardly as my eyes adjusted to the bright light.
"Err." I waddled a bit in place, noticing dark curls poking out of the hoodie. "Marcos?" I was a little relieved.
"Li?" He blinked, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here? Come inside - it's cold as hell."
-
He shut the door behind us.
I sat in a very familiar room, wrapped in a cloak while he sat comfortably in a hoodie. An old fashioned fireplace crackled in the corner. It looked like he just got finished with rewatching season two of New Girl with the credits rolling on the screen. Comic books were neatly stacked in a corner, and he fiddled with his glass necklace a bit before sliding it back into his shirt. I sat down at the dining table.
He wandered over to the kitchen, turning on the Keurig. "Um, so what were you doing in a cave?"
"You never told me you were Damaso." The water boiled comfortably as he fiddled around with the mugs, grabbing a cat shaped one for me.
"I heard you, but I don't think you heard me. I'm still trying to figure it out. It's inherited." His older brother Gabriel ran out with a bunch of punks and never came back, and must've left him to be the head of house from now on - not that he hadn't ever had to before. I often had trouble as the neighbor before with listening to their fights - I often checked on Marcos after Gabriel stormed out, reading a few books quietly beside him, watching Netflix when we could, and studying for our college classes.
The fire roared and he removed his hoodie, setting it down on the chair. He was wearing his favorite baseball tee. I glanced down at my shoe, sweating a bit too much, tugging at my cloak. It turned blue and attempted to turn itself into a sheet of ice. "Jesus, Marcos. Turn it down a bit, please?" My body was trying to create a colder temperature in the worst way possible by attempting to freeze the ground underneath me, which didn't do well for Marcos' tiles. He didn't sweat one bit, but he did look embarrassed. "Sorry. Just wanted to see what you were hiding." He did a quick appraising side glance while finishing up the other cup of hot chocolate, walking over to sit at the table that was one size too small for him, but one size too big for me.
Our knees knocked gently. I resisted the temptation to slide my foot gently against his. He looked playful.
"Underneath?" I smirked and blushed, remembering exactly what I was wearing. "Not weapons."
"Mmn. Trying to appease the dragon for a favor?"
"Sort of. Did you always know that I'd ask?" I started sipping my hot chocolate a little. He drank his with no problem - one of the many benefits of having a dragon's digestive system.
"When were you going to tell me that you were the Slayer Witch?"
Off-handed sounding mother- I nearly went into convulsions. "First of all that son of a bitch knew was allergic to peanuts, and he stole all of my little sister's lunch money! You'd think that he would be able to smell the dumb nuts that fucking numb nuts, but he went and singed himself to death because he flew into my turkey deep frying peanut oil fucking God forbid I swear to Christ- He was a drunk bastard who should've never had a license to fly, and he flew with civilians seeing him! Slayer Witch my ass! Not my fault he blew himself up with a wound in his belly! The FBI has been ringing about it for months!"
