#WritingWonders 4.11 — The real Cherry Cliftown, the Celeb Interviewer in the saintly porcelain flesh(!), stopped me outside the loo and asked, "Lady Bolt. What annoys you the most about—"
"—my friend?" I looked for a levitating lens, but this part of Studio Home looked like any other office corridor. Bare corrugated fabric brown walls, anemic spot lights, red exit sign. No lens. Still: "This ain't going over broadcast or somethin?"
"She is your friend, not just someone you're hired to guard? Right?" She frowned as she eyed my spiked hair and cheek piercings. Real gold, them.
Her lack of observational skill made me want to give her a cross-eyed stare of dismay, but I kept my jaw shut. I wore the centuries old antique armor worn by one of the most famous day angel grunts in all the history of Home! A certified hero. You know her name. I know her name Wearing it, I was all but stamped Di-rect-tor-ate-certified myself. Made entirely of relic-level remnants, it was. Rainy Days, who I nearly killed three weeks ago, had bribed me with the armor for a make-sure I'd train to become my friend's bodyguard. As if I wouldn't have, asked di-rectly; gotta negotiate, natch. Must'ave impressed her—nobody had almost succeeded in killing her in centuries.
I settled for chuckling into my wing, before saying, "Not gonna say we're besties, and we worked for the same scary dude for awhile, but she saved my life and I returned the favor when Rainy Days tried to incinerate her." I pointed at the many red and some still bandaged burns peppering my seat-side and back legs. "I wouldn't do that for any random devil-girl. Look, I'm okay with ya reporting that and so'd she be. We razz each other all the time."
Cliftown looked dubious, considering the meltdown and yelling that happened with those first questions before the break. That my friend had been using the street name Night Mare spoke volumes that she was some kinda scary. If ya didn't know her, to know it was mostly an act, someone pretending to be an adult really well.
I added, "Buuuut, you might wanna leave the Director's name out of it." I gave a toothy grin.
"I'm just trying to figure her out. In just a few weeks, she rose from a nobody to the second most important—"
I fluffed my feathers in front of her face, rustling them to get her attention. "Ah don't think she could ever uh been 'nobody.' Ya saw the list of crimes she got pardoned for? That doesn't count that she's done saved people. Lots of people, Home City's population being among them, which answers your question."
"How so?"
"What annoys me most is that devil-girl is completely clueless about things, pretty much like you Daisy... Um, Cherry."
The woman had taken out a quill to write on the back of her interview questions. She looked up, the point on her tongue, red bushy-brows sinking into a glare. Similarly pale reddish eyes flicked to the neck bones in the armor. They were real, very much so, and contained congealed magic. I could tell it was what they call a rebuttal when she said, "She's possibly the most focused person I've ever met."
"Focused." I blew air through my lips. "Yeah. So focused she sees da beetle on the redwood tree, but not the rotted log she's about to trip over! It's annoying that she goes out of the way to help little people like me, almost getting herself killed, but always risking and losing stuff, even herself. She's got a heart bigger than any one I've ever met, and once she's your friend she'll tell you the truth even if it hurts, then do a make-sure so you do your best. People follow her because they know she'll have their back."
I started gesticulating widely with my wings and arms, causing Cherry the Celeb Interviewer to stumble back. I was riled up.
"While she may have done criminal things, she also does the right thing or makes it right. She even faked a deadbeat's murder so she could take him somewhere to heal him so the boss wouldn't find out. 'I'm evil,' she says. 'Who'd want me as a friend,' she says. Flapping idiot! Yes, it annoys the flap out of me!" I shouted.
As I stomped by her in a mock huff, I heard papers drop. I looked back to see the interview questions slowly zig zag to the carpet, and grinned.
I'd give my life for that friend who saved me instead of saving herself. Next time Rainy Days, Director of Home or what the flap, tries to mess with my devil-girl, I ain't gonna miss!
[Author copyright retained]
[Poor, poor Cherry Cliftown, the comedy relief. —RS]
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