Page 33 of Love the Way You Lion
I’m not sure how he knew, but I’d peg him for someone with some kind of special ability.
Aradia nudges me, her eyes fixed on a group of men gathered at the far end of the bar. They’re loud and boisterous, their laughter echoing off the walls, but there’s an undercurrent of something darker. I can feel the tension in the air, the way their words dripwith malice and intent. It’s the kind of trouble we were looking for, and I can feel my pulse quicken in anticipation.
We rise, making our way over to them, our presence casting a shadow over their mirth. They glance up, surprise flickering in their eyes as they take in the sight of me. “Evening, gentlemen,” I say, my voice smooth and calm, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me. “Mind if I join you?”
There’s a beat of silence, and then one of them, a burly man with a tattoo snaking up his neck, gestures to the empty seats. “Suit yourselves,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing as he studies us. Aradia settles beside me, her presence a silent threat, and I lean back, taking in the scene before us.
The conversation resumes, a disjointed mix of bravado and bravura, but I listen closely, picking up on the threads that connect them. It doesn’t take long to piece together their story—a plan to rob a local business, a place owned by a family barely scraping by. The injustice of it stirs something within me, a fire that burns bright and fierce.
Putting a stop to people who need to be punished is more than I ever knew before meeting Taurus.
I exchange a glance with Aradia, and she nods her big furry head, understanding my intent without the need for words. We’ve done this dance before, played the roles of justice and retribution in a world that often turns a blind eye. With a graceful motion, I lean forward, capturing their attention with a single look. “You know,” I begin, my voice as smooth as silk, “there are better ways to make a living than what you’ve chosen.”
The man with the tattoo sneers, his bravado masking the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “What’s it to you?” he challenges, but I can sense the wavering resolve beneath his words.
“It’s everything to me,” I reply, my gaze steady and unyielding. “People like you give people like me a reason to exist.” The tension in the air is palpable, a tangible force that binds us together in this moment. I can feel the weight of their decisions, the way their paths have led them to this point, and I find myself wanting more than just justice.
I want change, a shift in the way men like them see the world and their place in it.
Aradia growls softly, her eyes fixed on the man with the tattoo, and I know she senses the shift as well. “Perhaps,” I suggest, my tone softening, “we could offer you an alternative. A chance to walk away from this and start anew.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, a flicker of something akin to hope in their eyes, and I seize the opportunity, leaning forward with an intensity that brooks no argument. “Consider it, gentlemen. The world is full of choices, and tonight, you have the power to make the right one.”
Silence stretches between us, a fragile thread that holds the potential for transformation. I can feel the weight of their decision hanging in the air, a delicate balance that could tip either way. And then, slowly, the man with the tattoo nods, his gaze dropping to the table as if in surrender. “Alright,” he mutters, his voice barely audible, “we’ll think about it.”
Relief washes over me like a gentle wave, unraveling the knots of tension within. I nod, acknowledging their tentative commitment to change—a small victory that feels monumental in this world where such moments are scarce.
Of course, now I have to come back and follow up on his words, butwe shall see.
Aradia and I rise together, leaving them behind to contemplate their choices. As we step into the cool embrace of the night air, hope swells within me, reminiscent of pockets of light we create amidst shadows. The breeze whispers through the desolate alleyways, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden—a fragrant reminder that beauty endures even in unlikely places.
As we walk, I turn to my familiar, an old friend whose presence is as familiar as my own shadow. “It’s weird to think about how much I’ve changed over this past year.” I say, breaking the comfortable silence. She looks at me expectantly and I chuckle. “Yeah, I know it’s inevitable that people change.”
I recall those youthful days when the world felt like an unexplored map, each corner a mystery waiting to be unraveled. “Back then, I was restless,” I muse. “Eager to grow up, to get out of the Hollow, and leave my mark on the world. Now that feels childish and naive. The world—or more accurately people in it, have left their mark on me.”
We pause at a familiar intersection, where the cobblestone street meets the edge of a small park. The silhouettes of ancient trees stand like sentinels, their branches swaying gently in the night air. “I feel old, even for my thirties, when I say it used to be safer to walk around like this when you weren’t a witch and a giant tiger. But it’s true… even in the smaller cities and towns.”
Aradia gives me a look that I think is the tiger version of an eye roll and I hold up my hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m being weirdly nostalgic and shit. I get it. I just… I thought moving to The Rift would solve all my stupid problems, not make it so much worse.”
As we resume our walk, I reflect on the truth of my words. As adults, we find ourselves writing new chapters in life, our narratives shaped by experiences both bitter and sweet. It’s hard to reconcile how your outlook changes with time.
The streets are empty, a silent witness to the passage of time. Streetlights cast elongated shadows, creating a patchwork of light and dark that mirrors the duality of change itself. I think of the people I’ve met along the way, each encounter leaving an indelible mark on our souls.
“Sometimes, I wonder how many other people have the kind of gifts I do. I even wonder if people have the gifts the clones do. How many of them are living on this side of our portal, do you think?” I ask, my voice tinged with curiosity.
My tiger doesn’t answer even though she sort of can, so I let my question float through the air. If I’m possible, and the others are possible… so are a lot more things than just what I’ve seen in The Rift. It has to be bigger, and I’m very curious about how I can go about finding out.
Maybe that’s something I can use the assholes at the Company for without their knowledge?
We turn down a side street, the pavement glistening under the soft light of the moon. Here, the houses stand in silent rows, their windows like eyes gazing out at the ever-changing world. I wonder about the lives unfolding behind those walls, each one a unique story in the tapestry of existence.
“Do you think any of these people know what’sreallyout there?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, besides magic or shifting or clones… just the dangers that lurk in shadows they don’t even think to check for? I guess that’s why superheroes are such a big draw—someone who will save us makes life a little easier to bear.”
Aradia snorts, tossing her big head and I know it means she thinks I’m being ridiculous. I might be; pregnancy changes everyone because of the hormones, I’ve read. I’m certainly being flooded with them and maybe it’s making me murderousandmaudlin.
The night deepens, the sky a canvas painted with stars, and I find solace in the rhythm of our footsteps. They echo the passage of time, a reminder that while change may be constant, it is not something to be feared. Instead, it is an opportunity—a chance to redefine ourselves, to forge new paths, and to embrace the unknown with open hearts.
Eventually, we find ourselves back where we began, standing at the edge of the park. The air is still, the world bathed in a serene tranquility that belies the chaos of the day. I take a deep breath, savoring the coolness, the sense of continuity that this place offers.
