Internalizing Intent (Solo)

[Bailey Oleander]

((Please Note: The word count on this is just over 2,000 words. It is not a short read.))

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Bailey was out of the infirmary sooner than she had expected, mostly because she had promised Arianna she'd return to her dorm to rest to get away from the infirmary. At the time, it had been true, and she had rested for a couple of hours to let her body recover even just going there from the infirmary. At least there, there was a sense of home, a reminder of herself, but there was something still missing.

She knew what it was. At least, she thought she did. And so, with steps that were more shuffling than actually lifting her feet, she'd made her way out to the courtyard. Her breath kept coming in short breaths even then, forcing the little blonde to sit down on a nearby bench to recover herself. She'd wave in passing to a person in two who greeted her, but for the most part, people were intent on their own lives and what they wanted to notice her. It was something she was used to, and grateful for now.

This was going to take a while.

Less than a block away from Cabal, her body started screaming her her, each step feeling more like she was slogging through knee-deep clay than just walking. She winced, remembering. Remembering how she'd taken not one of those stone coffin attacks, but two. How she'd taken blows to the gut in the most intense training session she'd ever had, and still managed to be here for now.

What would Blake think if he could see her now? If he could see what she'd done? Besides chastise her for the repeated mistake.

There was no sense of time as she continued; it could have been minutes until she reached the trees, or days. More than once, she had to stop to let her body have a chance to reorient, not to mention making sure she was going to the right place.

They had to be there.

”Where are we going?”

“Somewhere that no one will hear you scream.”

Each time Bailey stopped, she would check to make sure she wasn't followed, using her ability to sense out any energy signatures around her. No one followed. No one had reason to, and if anyone had thought to report her movements to the infirmary or anyone else, well, it wasn't exactly like she was going at a rapid pace They would have been able to stop her before now.

The woods were like a labyrinth, causing the small blonde to stop more than once to make sure she was hadn't lost her way. It had only been one time; doubts started to seep in at the back of her mind and burrow in deeper. A tree looked familiar, an odd knot pattern as the tree twisted around itself before reaching up to the sunlight once more. Most of the trees were strong and sturdy, their trunks strait as a rod or with little asymmetry. She laid a hand on the knot, remembering its oddity in passing, but she had been too busy asking questions to comment or even make more than a passing note of it. Now, she was grateful she remembered it at all.

He hated it when she asked a lot of questions. Even when he put up with it, even when he explained, she could see the impatience and frustration in his eyes. It had caused her to stop, more than once.

Her foot snagged a root as she moved forward, jerking Bailey from her thoughts as she crashed to the ground, hands raised up in front of her to catch herself and not go face first. She cried out in pain, fingers digging into the ground as they curled into fists. The air was knocked from her lungs, leaving her gasping and unable to rise, just like she had been a couple days before.

”You're weak.” The words rang out in her mind, taunting her, telling her to just stay there if she wanted. Something warm began to seep down her arm, unable to catch her attention as Bailey focused on pushing herself up, the pain burning up her arm again as she forced herself to do what her body didn't want to.

They were right: she was weak. Blake had told her to go home. She had graduated, fulfilled her required duty, and Cabal was no place for her. No place for the weak, or those not willing to see battle. She should pack up and go home.

One step forward.

She would grow stronger.

One more step. Swallow the hurt. The pride.

She had to.

Keep going, keep going, keep going.

The clearing swam before her eyes as Bailey stood, looking out over the pristine landscape. It was so quiet here, so peaceful. Not long ago, her blood had been spilled on it. Her bright green eyes glanced over the world before her, remembering where she had pressed the attack, where spikes had been driven through her flesh and bone. Where she had talked strategy while bleeding out, unable to rise, and in the end, unable to think clearly.

“There.” Though little more than a murmur, the single word sounded like a shout in her ears as the adept made her way to where she remembered throwing her escrima stick. It had bounced away in the distance, but the other was where it had been left, half buried in a curious pile of dust. Using her left hand for support, she knelt down to retrieve her weapon, pausing at the sight of blood dripping down her arm, sliding between her fingers and her tree companion's skin. Her stitches had popped.

Frowning, Bailey raised a hand to her arm, following the trail of blood to the offending wound on her upper arm. With a small gesture, a webbing of energy appeared, covering the wound and pulling it shut together. She had to do it a few times, boosting her own energy the second time, but it held enough for her to continue.

The blood had oozed onto the stick where she'd grabbed it. She stopped, staring at the flash of deep crimson against the wood. A weapon Blake had made for her when her strength had surged, when she'd been stuck in a room full of her own destruction. He'd helped her to reach the infirmary, silent but understanding.

"So because you are non-violent you find it more appealing to crush bones and bludgeon someone to death rather than pierce their flesh?". He had been so confused when she'd first requested using a blunt weapon, his thoughts already going to death, where hers had been to subdue, to incapacitate or defend herself. She hadn't wanted to be the cause of someone else's death again.

He didn't even know that about her. If he had, would he have understood more?

”Sorry about that.” Mentally passing the apology along to her still unnamed companion, she wiped the blood of of the bark-like glove with the end of her shirt, trying to keep it as clean as possible. Pushing off to stand, swaying as her balance threatened to send her toppling, but she remained upright, and was able to retrieve the other stick. Rather than stand again, however, she gave in to her body's need to rest, dropping to her knees and remaining there as she hugged her weapons and stared out into the distance. Her breath was more of a jagged pant as she closed her eyes and sat on her heels, still holding the sticks to her chest.

"These will help keep you safe. But I would suggest leaving Cabal and going home with what you had learned. It would be for the best."

Here, at least, there was peace. Sort of. There were no walls closing in around her, no fighting in the background, no pressure to pass or fail. No expectations. No negotiations or threats of the world falling apart again. Just the hint of a breeze, the late afternoon sun warm on her skin, and even a bird chirping in the distance. Tainted with her blood, but that was behind her, not beyond.

She took it in, drank it all, all of the energy in the place, letting it surround her like a balm for a bruised spirit. Her limbs grew heavier as they relaxed, but still she didn't move.

What would Blake say if he saw her now? There was no doubt that he was holding back on her, that was certain. The man who shot through the ranks like the arrow, the weapon he claimed to be, determined to hit the mark. He had such patience for her, this young man who was able to lash out and give Dragons a run for their money. A protector in his own right. Stubborn, focused, driven. Determined. Would he be proud of her now, choosing to face fights rather than run from them? Even if it meant she'd likely lose?

"Intent matters Bailey. Intent to Subdue will overpower intent to flee. Intent to Kill will overpower intent to Subdue. Know yourself, then know your enemy. And never take your eyes off your attacker. Forget that, and you will die..."

What was her intent? What did she want? From Cabal? From this? From herself? To subdue, she would have said originally. She was the run, to avoid the problem if she could, and take the less violent path when at all possible, if violence had to be involved at all. Now, in this place, she was choosing the intent to kill. Learning ways to make bad situations still work for her, how do more than just incapacitate, if Eric had anything to say about it.

Then again, she'd acknowledged that. Agreed to it, not believing him to be serious. To bluff and intimidate her, and she had been wrong. Her hold on the sticks tightened, as if they could console her.

What would her family and friends back home think? It wasn't like her, and she was awkward with fighting. And yet...

What would she do, to keep them safe? To help her comrades here at Cabal? Would she always be the weak link? She wished she had someone she could voice her thoughts to. Someone other than her spirit companion, anyway. The poor symbiote had probably heard the thoughts more than they cared for.
How long would she be able to keep this up?

"May you be worthy of your hopes and dreams. May your people prosper."

Their parting words, or his at least. A farewell for happier times, even though they had argued. Or, she had. Now one of the Commanders wanted her to go back, to find him. If he could be found.

She would stay as long as she needed to. As long as it took to understand what she wanted, what new dreams were out of reach, new goals she had gained since coming to Cabal. To not be a bystander. She could have gone back home long ago, and yet, some part of her hadn't. She had stayed, feeling...something. Something that felt like she needed to be here, even if it was just for her own good.

Opening her eyes, Bailey blinked, surprised by the sun's new position and wondering if she'd really been there as long as she had. Carefully pushing herself up, she winced at the sensation of pins and needles stabbing her legs and feet from sitting on them for so long. She sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it, preparing herself for the walk back, her thoughts still buzzing but no longer frantic.

Whatever the dream, whatever the goal, it was waiting for her, and so was Cabal. Whatever she chose, whatever she did, she could only hope Blake would be proud of her, or at least understand. Whatever he thought, that was a worry for another day.

For now, she still had work to do, and promises to keep. And she would do whatever was necessary for that to happen.