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Bright sunlight shone off the edge of an immaculate blade as it was angled, then let fly with a quick flick of her pa’s wrist. Millie was barely able to keep track of it as it zipped through the scorching air, cutting a rift in the dancing ribbons of heat rising from dry ground. A loud thunk made her jump, and she watched in awe as the trembling blade stilled, lodged firmly in the center of a freshly painted bullseye. The smaller demon hopped up immediately, grabbing her pa’s tail in a vice grip to hop up and down behind him while he protested and attempted to pry her off. “That was amazin’, pa!”
”Does that mean y’hafta yank my damn tail off?” Joe’s voice was laced with affection as he finally managed to pull Millie off of his tail, setting her down and ruffling her hair. He moved off towards the target to yank his knife out, flicking off paint that hadn’t had the time to dry yet. Millie trailed behind him, a ball of quivering energy as she suddenly rushed ahead to hold the flimsy target down. “Yer gettin’ strong, though. Hold it steady.” Gripping the knife’s handle, he wiggled it free while Millie kept it in place. He was halfway through tucking it back into its sheath when he paused, watching the twinkle in his daughter’s eye. With a hum, he tucked it fully away. “Whaddya say about givin’ it a few tries, hm?”
If he’d thought she couldn’t possibly get any brighter, he’d have been wrong. Millie shined enough to rival the piercing sun above, barely able to keep herself in one place while she rattled with barely contained excitement. “Yes! Yes, yes! Please!” Joe narrowly managed to dodge her grabbing hands as she went for the knife at his side, and he tsked, dodging around her as she fought in vain for a grab at the handle.
”Nah, nah, not that one.” In the middle of ducking away from his daughter, he’d managed to reach into the recesses of his vest and pull out another knife. This one was far duller, hints of rust eating away at its weathered metal, and had an odd curve to it from years of re-sharpening. Still, it was lighter, and far more suitable than the heavier piece at his side. Fingers gripping the sides of the knotted wooden handle, he held it out to her, ensuring she wouldn’t accidentally cut herself in her excited grab for it.
”Go on,”
Sickly green reflections of billowing chemicals slid across the surface of a sharpened blade, held tight between two slim fingers. Light bent across dark, oily swirls along its edge, left by thick coats of blood that had long been cleaned away. The dagger’s tip flashed, deathly still even as it hovered mere inches from the larger imp’s beating heart. Reaching for it, he trailed his claws along the rough grip, pausing on a gem embedded into the tough leather. Precise edges dug against soft skin, a tiny claw digging in where leather gave way to stone, and he briefly flinched away when his father jerked the dagger closer, pressing the butt of the handle against his palm. “Take it.”
Fear moved his body for him. His hand closed, and the full weight of the dagger settling caught him off guard, so that he had to quickly tighten his hold to prevent it from slipping away. It felt unnatural, a completely foreign object in his hand, and he could never manage to suppress the shiver of unease that crept up his spine, cold dread leaking across his nerves in its wake.
“See? It’s that fuckin’ easy to listen,” Crimson stepped back, and Moxxie breathed shakily as his looming presence shifted behind him, watching. He knew what his father was waiting for, but he felt rooted in place. His eyes fixed on the wood in front of him, tracing old knots and imperfections that had been amplified by constant humidity, and he subconsciously allowed the knife lower.
The corners of his eyes stung, and he fought to keep any tears from spilling over onto his cheeks. The sound of clothes brushing behind him was the only warning he received before his father had taken his chin in his hand, and forced his head up wordlessly.
Dark pupils pierced into him, surrounded by glowing concentric rings, floating in a baleful ocean of washed-out cerulean. Black blood oozed from grazing cuts, sticking in fat globs to sandpaper skin and soaking into rumpled clothing. Moxxie was frozen, watching their chest rise and fall with each wheezing drag of air in and out of bruised lungs. Panic tore through any mental fortification he had been able to erect in the short trip here, and despite his best efforts, hot tears tracked their way down his cheeks as his breath caught in his throat, and he hacked out a wet cough.
A shock of pain across his cheek yanked him forcefully from the fog of panic that had settled over him. He tore his gaze away from the figure in front of him, shrinking as he instead met his father’s eyes. Crimson gestured to the target with a forceful snap of his hand, a barely suppressed growl tugging at his lips. “Cryin’ isn’t gonna make it go away, kid. The sooner you throw that knife, the sooner you can get back to hidin’,” A hand at his back nudged him forward imploringly, drifting to adjust Moxxie’s arm, tilting the dagger’s point forward. “So throw it.”
Mechanically, his arm drew back, index finger sliding to brush against the cool metal of the blade. Hazy impressions of phosphorescent rings burned through his mind as he screwed his eyes shut, and let the dagger fly.
Dust billowed in the wake of a skittering knife, sent tumbling across dry dirt after a colliding handle-first with their rickety target. As it came to a stop, Millie scooped it up, tail a whirlwind of whipping fury as she stomped her way back over to the wobbly throwing line her pa had drawn out for her. Placing her feet right on it, she tried in vain to imitate the stance she’d been shown, and once again the knife bounced uselessly against a far corner of the board.
A hot flash of burning frustration simmered under her skin, and as the knife came skidding back in her direction, she lashed out to take hold of it again. Joe watched her line up again, puffing out a sigh when she inevitably missed again, and the knife twanged off of the brittle fencepost he’d set their target on. “Pumpkin, are you sure y’don’t want me to show ya how to do it? ‘Cause right now, all yer hittin’ is rabbits.” He pushed himself off the post he had been leaning on to step up to the line, watching her determinedly retrieve her weapon.
“No. I got it.” She reeled her arm back for another throw, stopping in her tracks as Joe’s hand moved out to catch hers. Rage flashed through her, and she glared up to meet her pa’s eyes in a challenge. Millie held his gaze, soft with concern, and it didn’t take long for any anger she had felt to slither away, leaving thinly-veiled shame in its absence. Her grip on the knife loosened, and she allowed her pa to slip it from her fingers. “…’m sorry, pa. I just-.“
”Got frustrated? I know. I had t’learn too, and it ain’t always as easy it looks.” With the knife in hand, he tested its balance as he spoke. “A’course, I wasn’t afraid of bein’ shown how it works,” Millie watched as he twirled the handle, patches of light somersaulting over her face as light reflected off the turning blade. “Unlike somebody I know. Ah well. If only she were willin’ to ask for help, then she’d be the best damn knife-slinger in Wrath…” Joe shrugged, feigning a move to tuck the knife away.
At first, it seemed like she wouldn’t take the bait, but as soon as she had registered what he’d said Millie was fired right back up, the enthusiasm that had leaked away with each failure returning to her in full force. She was immediately tugging on his arm to get him to stop, pouting as she dug her heels into the dirt and pulled back. “No! No, papa, I wanna learn.” Joe paused, though he didn’t offer her the knife again. She grit her teeth, only for a moment, as she fought against an internal struggle to reject the help he’d offered. It felt like admitting defeat- giving in and voicing that she had failed. An unfamiliar emotion curled in her stomach at the thought, and she closed her eyes. “I wantcha t’teach me.”
“Mhm. If yer willin’ to learn,” Joe chuckled, reaching out to affectionately ruffle her hair. She swiped at his hands in protest, trying her best to keep up a tough act and suppress any giggles that may have otherwise escaped her. “Alright. Try copyin’ what I do, an’ we’ll go from there.” Positioning one foot on the line, he fell into the same stance he’d assumed earlier, when he had only intended to sharpen his own skills. Millie watched intently, hobbling her way into a sloppy imitation of his pose.
”Almost. Just…” Joe moved over, nudging at her feet until they were angled properly. “There. Now, let's getcha set up for a throw.” Transferring the knife to his other hand, he pulled Millie’s arm up gently to a better height, so that it was more aligned with that of the target. He tapped her hand, and she spread it open for him to press the handle of the knife back into her grip.
A crushing hand surrounded his own, pressing sharp corners of an inlaid gemstone harshly against his palm. He felt removed, as though he had stepped out of his body, while his arm was reeled back for him, dagger poised at the ready for a throw that would surely strike his writhing target. The blade reached its apex, and he tensed, eyes squeezing shut once more.
A pause.
Shakily, Moxxie dragged in a breath. Smooth wood shifted beneath his fingers, the painful press of the hand around his melting into a softer embrace.
“Honey, ya gotta stop closin’ yer eyes like that. No wonder ya keep missin’ so damn much!” Millie teased him playfully, grinning widely in his peripheral. Thankfully, she had yet to notice the tension in his muscles, and with another few steady breaths, he could almost brush his memories under the rug again. Lock them away, like he always had.
She didn’t deserve the burden of knowing.
”Ha, sorry, I uh- I think it’s all the pointy shit, you know? Hate having it around my eyes, makes me nervous I’m gonna poke myself,” He chuckled awkwardly, readjusting his hand on the knife she’d fit him with. Of course, to call the blade pointy would be a massive overstatement- the thing was as dull as a knife could possibly get, and so terribly curved it was a damn miracle it even flew straight. Still, Millie had insisted they use it for practice, and when she got that familiar sparkle in her eyes, there was no way he could possibly deny her.
Her body brushed against his as she giggled. Her thumb traced small circles on the back of his hand, mindful of her claws, and Moxxie felt himself slowly relax again. “Sure. Now keep yer eyes open this time, sugar,” Millie pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulling away to leave him once again longing for her comfort.
The soft thump of metal slicing into styrofoam was more than enough to make up for it.