What (Wicked)

Belle's ice-cold eyes darted to the side. Her senses were on their edges, eyes constantly moving, muscles always tensed and ready to spring, ears alert. Of course, ears wouldn't be much help now that she was paired with this guy. She turned her head to see that the man was still following. Usually when someone was following you during a capture the flag game, it was bad news. But this man wore the red-plumed helmet the same as she did. And she wasn't happy about it.

Tiberius Winters and Belle Neige had been paired as scouters during this capture the flag game for whatever reason. She had remembered seeing him at the cabin leader meeting, and also recalled that she didn't like him. His pretty face and relatively loud mouth led her to stereotype him into the same category that she stereotyped most pretty-boys. And it didn't help that he was an Aphrodite member.

A cold breeze brushed the girl's skin. It was an odd and out of place funnel of air, and Belle realized she must have inadvertently caused it. She allowed her muscles to relax a bit and brought herself out of her deep thought. She stopped walking and straightened up, placing the arrow in her hand back into her quiver. She hadn't said anything to this boy since the moment they had set out into the woods, but she figured it was about time to communicate.

"So," she sighed, turning to him. "Any ideas?" Although she was speaking, she still made an attempt to keep her voice low. The opposite team could possibly be just beyond a couple shrubs. As Belle awaited a response, she turned away from Tiberius. Her body did a full 360 as she scanned their location for any hint of blue. She had no idea where the flag could be, and she also had no idea where they were, but she was too proud to admit it. She faced Tiberius again and crossed her arms, piercing-blue eyes locked onto him skeptically.

Belle was watching his face closely. First, Tiberius seemed a bit frightened to be spoken to. Second, he seemed reluctant to answer. Belle didn't know if this was because he didn't like her, or was just naturally shy. Either way, she found herself annoyed by the limited response. And, not only was it limited, but it was also quite lame. His voice sounded pathetic and the suggestion sounded very half-hearted. Her eyes narrowed, and perhaps there was another tiny gust of a breeze.

Belle turned away from Tiberius and began to march forward again, a little less prepared than she had been before. She now walked with her arms crossed, ears un-attentive, and eyes focused ahead but not really seeing much. She was much too busy complaining silently to herself about her partner. She didn't even look back to see if he was following, but rather kept marching forward. After a minute or two, she halted.

Her head snapped to the side, and then she slowly turned to look behind her. Something had caught her attention. When an animal hears something, it freezes. Although not the best instinct, Belle embraced it, finding it best to analyze her situation. Tiberius seemed to have kept up pace alright. Her eyes glanced over his shoulder, and then locked onto his eyes. Her hand slowly moved to her quiver and drew out an arrow which then hovered in front of her bow string.

"Please tell me that was you," she hissed, still very quiet. Although she wasn't speaking much, and not really in full sentences, her natural french accent carried along her voice. Belle admired her unique accent, a mix of French and French-Canadian.

The girl turned to the side, staring at the trees surrounding them. Her feet shifted lightly so that they didn't make sounds like they would have if she were taking steps. Belle then turned to the other side. Still, nothing. Hopefully, it was Tiberius. She hoped he was a good fighter, but she didn't get much of that vibe from him. If an attack were to come, she pegged him for the type to drop to the ground and yield. This thought made her clench her jaw tightly. This whole Capture the Flag match was not working for her. Especially the way that the teams were stacked.

Even though there were no further suspicious noises, Belle did not remove her arrow. The back of her neck tingled, and she didn't like it. She gritted her teeth and took a breath. As she let it out, a breeze like the previous two began to disturb the trees. However, it was different from the other two in that the degree of this wind was steeper. It was colder, like a January breeze rather than one from April, and it was not a simple gust of wind. Rather, it was a long and protracted stream of air that swirled around both Belle and Tiberius. Belle, despite the temperature, began to sweat. She was capable of much more powerful magic than this, but to sustain it was another story. She was hoping that if there were any opposing team members hiding in the trees, they would retreat at the threat of magic. So far, no such luck. Belle tried her best to keep the cold sensation away from Belle and Tiberius and focused more at the trees, but she could already tell that her breath was becoming visible.

Belle began to shiver more now. Still she was not cold, but the power it took to keep up the wind for a prolonged time withered her. Her cabin was much much much colder than this wind, so she really wasn't that bothered by it. However, hearing a comment from Tiberius caught her off guard. Although it wasn't English, it registered for her in an instant as her native tongue. He was swearing. Belle wasn't taking his feelings much into account, but she supposed that she should. After all, if she wanted to win this game, she would have to know her enemies, not ignore them. That went twice as true now, since they were about to engage in a fight. She knew if he could not fight, then she would have to protect him. This meant more trouble than Belle bargained for, but hopefully achievable. If, by chance, Tiberius could fight, then that would be fantastic.

"Par chance, êtes-vous bon pour combattre?" Belle's voice asked, over the sound of the air. There was no point in keeping her voice down now. If there were enemies in the vicinity, it was known to them that Belle and Tiberius were there. Additionally, her voice when she regarded Tiberius was somewhat softer than when she had spoken before. When she looked at him, she could see his hands fidgeting and shaking. She very much understood how he felt. She was being harsh with him before because he was obviously distracted and not contributing much. As she looked into his eyes, she felt a strange tingle at the back of her skull.

Suddenly, a flashback flew through Belle's mind. She was no longer in a green forest with trees growing around her, but instead there were buildings growing around her. Tall buildings. She recognized them as a university. She could even make out the library at the end of the square. It was her boarding school. Suddenly, the image around her quaked and blended. The buildings' colors smudged together and swirled past until they settled as a new scene. Around her was light shades of blue and pure white. It was one of the dorm rooms. It was iced over, the floor was slick and glistening. The bed had a rectangular pile of snow fitted perfectly on it. It was a winter wonderland room. And she knew who's it was. As she looked down at her arms she could see the blotches of purple and brown that were bruises. She always had to cover them up when she went out to class. She always assumed that her mother did this to her boyfriend's dorm. But was it Khione?

The image vanished as quickly as it came, and Belle glanced around feebly. She let herself become vulnerable. Quickly, her eyes became steel once again and her expression was stone cold. She had no idea why this flashback came to her, but it was inconvenient and she wouldn't let it get to her. Belle looked down at her arms. No bruises, just a bow and an arrow gripped in her hand. And... some sort of white specks dotted her skin. She lifted her arms slowly, and her eyes widened. She was making it snow. Snowflakes littered the ground and Tiberius' plume. She had not any idea how long it had been snowing, but she didn't even realize she was doing it.

The entire fiasco of the small little winter suddenly ceased. The winds stopped, the snow vanished. Belle's legs wobbled. Anyone outside the tiny circle of the forest they were in would not have noticed anything was happening, but it felt to Belle like a gigantic weight was tugged off of her shoulders.No, she told herself. She had to appear strong. Nobody, nobody could see her be weak. She gripped he bow and set the arrow in the string.

"Come and fight, cowards!" she called.

Belle heard Tiberius's response back in french. It was eloquent, and she was surprised. She wasn't used to having someone around who could understand her (in more ways than language), but the fact that she could speak in her native tongue was refreshing. She often forgot that Aphrodite kids were eloquent in the language of love.

The child of Khione didn't have much time to dwell on her thoughts. As if rattled out of the trees by Belle's cry, six blue team members began to approach them. Belle raised her bow. Unlike Tiberius, who stood with blades drawn and a stance that was ready for battle, Belle wasted no time in engaging the enemy. She raised her bow, pulled back the string with a strong and controlled tug, and then let the arrow fly. Just as her fingers released the string there was a small whir of air, and then the arrow embedded itself in one of the camper's round shield. The camper stumbled back a little bit from the force, and appeared dazed. He looked at it questioningly as if he didn't know what had just happened.

Even before the boy looked back up, Belle had another arrow ready. She raised her arms, aiming at the same person, and then shot. The arrow zoomed forward. This time, it hit its mark. And the boy was lucky Belle was a good shot. The arrow struck the boy's sword. She could hear the pang of the metal against metal. The boy's hand wobbled and then dropped his sword. She knew it was hard to hold vibrating metal, and her plan had worked. The only problem, there was five more. And they were getting closer.
Belle retreated a couple of steps whilst reloading her string. She raised her bow and was met with a surprise. As her eyes locked on one of the opposing campers, she saw that she, too, had a bow. Belle's eyes widened, and a shock ran through her veins. Archers were dangerous. Instinctively, she ducked.

Although she had inadvertently closed her eyes as she ducked down, the sound preceding the feeling was unmistakable. A stinging sensation ran across her upper arm. When she opened her eyes, she quickly turned her head and discovered that her am had a small incision on it. She had very narrowly escaped having an arrow lodged in her arm.

She whipped her head around the the camper who had fired the arrow, icy eyes somehow also burning with hatred. Fury had taken hold of her, for she was insulted to even be injured. While the camper was reloading, Belle moved twice as fast, notching an arrow, lifting her bow, and firing. The arrow was true, and the camper went down. She had hit his or her foot. A scream shot throughout the woods, likely sending shivers up many people's spines. And in her mind, Belle snidely commented, Not even sorry.

By the time that camper was taken care of, the other one had retrieved his sword, and the duo of Belle and Tiberius stood outnumbered two to five once more. Now, the advancing blue team members were too close for Belle to engage with a bow. She tossed it on the ground and reached to her leg. She drew a large knife, or a rather small sword, and stood ready. Most people would laugh at such a small weapon against such unlucky odds. Those people didn't know Belle.