( will color-code in the morning 9v9a )

"So, your name is Tomatoe?"

There was an airy sigh. Tao. It reiterated gently. Tao is my name.

"So like, Taomatoe..."

Wait, pause, rewind.

How had this even started again?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The steps down into the cove were damp, and the chill in the air seemed almost palpable against her skin. Everything was quiet apart from the low, distant hum, and Pasha followed it like a moth drawn helplessly towards a flame. Her chest ached, heart beating madly like a bird trying to escape a too-small cage. And why?

Because she'd woken up.

So immersed in the world of sleep, dreamless at times and filled with vibrance at others, the waking world was intimidating - a dark and sprawling maze of muted colors and strange characters that still seemed so otherworldly, even though she knew they were not. All of their chatter had blurred together in her mind now - a static disconnect of sound with important words filtering through. Deus, Weapons, Fighting, Death. This was what she'd signed up for, maybe without even truly realizing it at the time. This was the life, the existence she'd chosen for herself, but -

Pasha's boots scraped and scuffled off of the last step and into the small enclosure. She stared out into the dimly lit corners, the walls lit with runes and small tiles that fit like puzzle pieces into their resting places. She was supposed to find her weapon here, to fight and die with it, to defeat all of the shadows that had raced after her in the corners of her eyes all her life.

But she was just a kid.

Just a small, tiny little thing. Running, always, with bruised knees and a banged up shoulder because the schoolyard bullies had gotten to rough, and she'd been too cowardly to turn in fight. She was just a kid - she wasn't a fighter. How could she be? What sentient weapon in their right mind would choose her?

Pasha stood in the center of the room and stared into the darkness, her heart pounding in her ears and her mind numb to the cold. She was just a kid, but this – this was what she had chosen, right? This what she wanted, right? She didn’t want to be just a kid anymore. She wanted something more, a life that had meaning. Was that so much to ask? And if a misogynist, a whore, and a musician could do it, why couldn’t she?

A low hum emanated out from the room, soft and echoing in her ears. It felt almost as though someone were whispering in her ear, a lilting, wordless tune.

“Hello?”

It seemed only fair to offer a greeting to whatever strange, ethereal being might be watching her and trying to commute.

Ni hao.

Pasha blinked.

“N-ni hao.” She mumbled instead.

Better.

The girl took a step backwards, and then a jittery step forwards, spinning in a circle as though to look for the source of the noise. “Is this a dream?” She asked, spreading her arms out as she spun and landing lightly on her heels at the end.

Only if that is what you wish.

The words were odd, but they struck a cord in her that made her truly think. What was her wish? What did she want? Somewhere in her mind, a bell tolled. A funeral film scene situated itself quietly in the empty spaces of her head. Someone was crying, something was moving, something dark and fierce and hungry in the corner of her eye. And she was scared.

She didn’t want to be scared anymore.

“Where are you?” She murmured quietly into the silence, lifting her head. “Can I find you? C-can I – “

It is alright to come and claim me, child. I have been waiting for a very long time.

“Oh.” Pasha scuffled forward, light on her feet as she moved, following the hum and the gentle, lilting directions planted in her mind by the voice in her head. When she found herself standing in front of one of the tablets in the wall, she traced it idly with a finger, scoping the rune that pulsed on it with mild awe. With a tiny tug it came loose, and once resting in her hands, began to…

Began to change.

Pasha nearly inhaled a yelp when what had once been a tablet now was a rifle, complete with ornate markings along the barrel and a star printed on its end that pulsed a faint glow.

“Oh.” She said dumbly. “Oh. Oh, you are very pretty.”

Thank you.

“Um… what are you though?”

Pasha looked back and forth uncertainly. “And – um – what am I, exactly?”

I am a fenghaung. The voice returned quietly, though its tone seemed somber. Or I was. Until I was turned. And you - There was a pregnant pause, You are a hunter.

“Sounds fancy.”

It really isn’t.

“O – okay.”

There was an awkward silence (on Pasha’s part at least; the fenghuang seemed perfectly fine hanging out in the vast space of her mind mulling over the mysteries of the universe), and then Pasha spoke up again.

“I – I’m Pasha. We’re partners now, right? That’s what the musician was saying… I don’t know how to use guns though, and I’ve never really tried to aim at anything except when I was asked to play darts – but then they didn’t ask me again because I accidentally sent someone to the hospital with a dart in their neck so I don’t know if I’ll be very useful – “

Meimei. The voice interrupted. You are fine the way you are, or I would not have chosen you. We have much to do though. Many things to work on. Like your… your lack of filtering.

“Filtering? I don’t – “

Your way of speech is sloppy.

“Oh.” Pasha slumped down onto the ground – when had her knees grown so weak? – and clutched the rifle to her chest as though it were a lifeline. “I’m sorry. I – I haven’t had many people to talk to in my life. I usually just talked to the chickens or the goat, and they never tell me when to stop talking – I should stop talking now… shouldn’t I?”

The voice chuckled, the sound deep and gentle. It is fine, meimei. It hummed. We will work on it. Now, your name?

“Pasha.” The girl whispered, bowing her head so that it touched the body of the rifle. “Cordelia Anthemilia Bennett, really. But you can – you can just call me Pasha.”

Pasha. A pleasure. The voice gave a slow exhale. I am Táo.

"So, your name is Tomatoe?"

There was an airy sigh. Tao. It reiterated gently. Tao is my name.

"So like, Taomatoe..."

Meimei, the voice sounded almost exasperated, but after a moment, it seemed to sigh and acquiesce to its new nickname. If you insist.

“Can we – can I…. can we go now?” Pasha asked. “Now that I’ve found you, I can go back, right?”

You’re not asking the right question. Táo responded musingly.

“I’m not?”

No.

Pasha pondered this for a long moment. She was in a place where things like friends and family were nonexistent. She didn’t know anyone, and she was clutching a weapon she didn’t know how to use, with a job that said kill everything that is a threat against humanity. She only had Táo, and herself to rely on. And she was still –

Scared? The voice in her head asked mildly after their long interlude of silence went on and on.

“A bit.” Pasha returned passively, touching her cheeks tentatively with the tips of her fingers, the rifle still cradled against her chest. “Is that okay?”

Táo hummed. Don’t be afraid. He reprimanded, even though his tone was still lilting and lghtly accented. Pasha waited in the silence for some uplifting, self-help book worthy phrase to come next, but it didn’t. So she did the next best thing. And the only thing to do, really.

She steeled herself and stood up, and instead of scuttling towards the stairs like a lost puppy, she walked with a firmer gait, even though her heart still battered her ribcage frantically, even though she was still high on adrenaline and possibly sick to her stomach with a voice in her head to urge her on. But she’d chosen this, this new life, this strange world that she’d suddenly plummeted into. She’d chosen this, and now the question was whether or not she was ready to live with it. But Pasha already knew the answer, and she felt a small seed a confidence burst in her chest like a firecracker, even though it sizzled into nonexistence just as quickly when she took her first step up the stairs and back towards Deus. Her new life.

Good girl. Táo murmured distantly as she climbed, sounding tired from somewhere in the back of her head.

Don’t be afraid.