worry about a Push Battle destroying your house or blowing up your car or just straight out killing you in the crossfire."
"We do not look down upon the mortals like that!"
"Of course you do. Your every word betrays it." I could tell Archer was uncomfortable, questioning, just as I had been. "I'm sure 'Lord' Epic has talked about the need to 'wrest control' from the 'corrupt' government plenty of times. How 'mortals' need to be coddled and protected. How only the Pushed can save the world." I shrugged. "That sounds like he's looking down on them to me, which means, by extension ..." I pointed at Archer's chest.
His face went through several contortions in rapid succession. I recognized them because I saw them often in my own mirror. First there was denial, then anger, then realization, then defeat. The bowman let out a long sigh.
"'T would seem we share one thing, if naught else."
"What's that?"
"Our fair share of flaws." For some reason, that made me smile.
"We wouldn't be human if we were perfect," I mused. "Maybe we should both remember that."
"Verily," he agreed. "Such a fact intertwines both man and Pushed alike, for we are all quite flawed. Even Lord Epic."
"Especially Epic." I settled back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"'T would be wrong of me to speak ill of Milord and we shall leave it at that."
"Fair enough, I suppose," I said. Seeing as things had seemed to have settled in our current episode of Morality Wars, I moved on to something else.
"What is it like being a Crusader?" I asked, trying to pointedly ignore the lingering pain. I had a secret wish we were having this talk in the break room so I could raid the snack machines.
"I suppose not much different than the life you heroes in Atlanta live," Archer replied as he fussed over scuffs in his helmet. "Regular patrols for malcontents, speaking with the press and media, recruitment of like-minded Pushed to our cause, and of course the parties."
"Parties?" It wasn't the idea that our opposite number couldn't kick back once in a while, no matter how much I denied that luxury to myself, it was the plurality of his statement.
"Oh, aye!" He smiled wistfully. "It would be a horrid time if we did not take the time to relieve such tension. Lord Epic encourages this with regular formal balls. At least once a week, sometimes more." I couldn't help but think about our own Fourth of July party. It seemed an eternity ago.
"That seems pretty risky. What if something goes wrong during the bash and no one is out there to notice?"
"One keen advantage of a large, organized force is the ability to delegate roles and rotate active knights," Archer explained, still worrying over one nasty dent. "There are always more of us to keep a sharp vigil when others rest. Seeing as to the arrangements here, well, they are rather undisciplined."
"Yeah, funny how we like our freedom here."
"Freedom is a blessed thing that bears little weight when you are dead, Milady."
I was about to sit back up again, but I just took a deep breath and counted back from ten.
"Egad," Archer proclaimed, "it seems I must apologize. I can tell that I have offended you once again." He smiled brightly. "It is an affront to my noble heart to see a frown on a woman's face." It was almost like he wanted to lead face-first into my fist or something. Did he really believe his act?
Of course he did. The Argent Archer was Pushed. Who knew what crazy beliefs danced in his head or what the Whiteout did to his perception of reality? I had been very hesitant to press upon any of my Pushed friends for the answers to those questions, so much so that I didn't bother trying to find out their real names anymore. After the mess with Ex, I had become even more so. Maybe, though, as cruel as it might be, this was a chance to find out.
"Well, we'd all hate to have that, wouldn't we?" I deflected. "You know, maybe I'm just
"We do not look down upon the mortals like that!"
"Of course you do. Your every word betrays it." I could tell Archer was uncomfortable, questioning, just as I had been. "I'm sure 'Lord' Epic has talked about the need to 'wrest control' from the 'corrupt' government plenty of times. How 'mortals' need to be coddled and protected. How only the Pushed can save the world." I shrugged. "That sounds like he's looking down on them to me, which means, by extension ..." I pointed at Archer's chest.
His face went through several contortions in rapid succession. I recognized them because I saw them often in my own mirror. First there was denial, then anger, then realization, then defeat. The bowman let out a long sigh.
"'T would seem we share one thing, if naught else."
"What's that?"
"Our fair share of flaws." For some reason, that made me smile.
"We wouldn't be human if we were perfect," I mused. "Maybe we should both remember that."
"Verily," he agreed. "Such a fact intertwines both man and Pushed alike, for we are all quite flawed. Even Lord Epic."
"Especially Epic." I settled back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"'T would be wrong of me to speak ill of Milord and we shall leave it at that."
"Fair enough, I suppose," I said. Seeing as things had seemed to have settled in our current episode of Morality Wars, I moved on to something else.
"What is it like being a Crusader?" I asked, trying to pointedly ignore the lingering pain. I had a secret wish we were having this talk in the break room so I could raid the snack machines.
"I suppose not much different than the life you heroes in Atlanta live," Archer replied as he fussed over scuffs in his helmet. "Regular patrols for malcontents, speaking with the press and media, recruitment of like-minded Pushed to our cause, and of course the parties."
"Parties?" It wasn't the idea that our opposite number couldn't kick back once in a while, no matter how much I denied that luxury to myself, it was the plurality of his statement.
"Oh, aye!" He smiled wistfully. "It would be a horrid time if we did not take the time to relieve such tension. Lord Epic encourages this with regular formal balls. At least once a week, sometimes more." I couldn't help but think about our own Fourth of July party. It seemed an eternity ago.
"That seems pretty risky. What if something goes wrong during the bash and no one is out there to notice?"
"One keen advantage of a large, organized force is the ability to delegate roles and rotate active knights," Archer explained, still worrying over one nasty dent. "There are always more of us to keep a sharp vigil when others rest. Seeing as to the arrangements here, well, they are rather undisciplined."
"Yeah, funny how we like our freedom here."
"Freedom is a blessed thing that bears little weight when you are dead, Milady."
I was about to sit back up again, but I just took a deep breath and counted back from ten.
"Egad," Archer proclaimed, "it seems I must apologize. I can tell that I have offended you once again." He smiled brightly. "It is an affront to my noble heart to see a frown on a woman's face." It was almost like he wanted to lead face-first into my fist or something. Did he really believe his act?
Of course he did. The Argent Archer was Pushed. Who knew what crazy beliefs danced in his head or what the Whiteout did to his perception of reality? I had been very hesitant to press upon any of my Pushed friends for the answers to those questions, so much so that I didn't bother trying to find out their real names anymore. After the mess with Ex, I had become even more so. Maybe, though, as cruel as it might be, this was a chance to find out.
"Well, we'd all hate to have that, wouldn't we?" I deflected. "You know, maybe I'm just
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