7.

There she was, all crossed ankles and clasped hands and cheery smiles, her rather pointed stare the only indication of the fathoms-deep tension that was absolutely tangible in the room.

Here he was, avoiding eye contact and beginning to pace back and forth, having precisely the encounter he had been trying so desperately to avoid.

It had been like this since May and Brendan had left the room, and since then Steven had been berating himself for not going with them. The embarrassment of momentary intrusion on their time alone was pleasure compared to this unbearable—something. Whatever it was. Whatever the emotion was when you were face-to-face with the daughter of—

"You killed my mom," Zinnia said pleasantly.

Steven looked up in surprise and accidentally met her gaze; he held it for a second too long before looking away more deliberately than he had intended.

She sighed as if she were disappointed in him. "You killed my mom, and now you're feeling uncomfortable because you know we both know it and you don't know what to say to me. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now."

He reddened, and she let him bake quietly in his agitation while he deliberated whether or not to respond; then, when he finally opened his mouth, she took away his choice.

"I remember it pretty well, you know. Probably better than you, 'cause you're probably the type to repress bad memories, right? Hide under the covers and pretend it makes them go away? Ignore them until they smack you in the face?"

"Not this one," he'd meant to say; this one won't fucking leave me alone; but what came out instead was "I'm sorry," and he recoiled at how small his voice sounded in the expanse of the observatory that she had been filling so well.

"Oh, it's fine!" she said cheerfully. "She was gonna kill me, so, like, you technically saved my life. Buuuut—" her face became a caricature of thoughtfulness—"you did let her stab my twin sister to death first. Right in front of me, too. That was a little mean, don't you think? Pausing because you didn't fully understand the situation yet? Being frozen with terror for just a second too long?"

Slightly annoyed by her uninvited psychoanalysis, he moved to reply, but she cut him off again:

"I don't blame you, though. Really. Most people would have done the same thing." Her expression gave Steven the feeling that she considered herself apart from 'most people' in this case. "Also, you had nothing to do with the worst of it. What was the name of the champion before you? Hypatia?"

Steven's stomach curled. Hurriedly, before she could elaborate, he protested. "I already know what happened—I saw the files—" He thought of the secret room within the secret library, the subdued klefki rattling feebly inside the cramped item ball, and fought back chills.

Zinnia held up a finger to silence him and he complied. "Don't worry, I saw them, too." Steven's eyes widened. "Remember the part where they cracked open my mother's skull and poured gothitelle psychic-juice in it to punish her for her 'political crimes'?" Her air quotes were forceful; she had lost her too-bright smile.

That had indeed been the phrase used in the file. Steven gaped at her, wondering how she had gotten access to it.

"Know what those crimes were?" Steven shook his head mutely; the file hadn't elaborated on them. "Trying to warn people that a massive fucking meteoroid is on its way to obliterate us all, and the only thing that's gonna stop it is a literal god. Oh, but Hypatia doesn't do religion. Hypatia doesn't like made-up stories interfering with her enlightened, rationalist regime." She was actually scowling now; all pretense had vanished.

There had been protests at Hypatia's inauguration, Steven recalled; he remembered thinking they were as full of nonsense as Hypatia had treated them, her amused face on camera sparking a small controversy. This attitude seemed miles away in the face of their current situation and surroundings, the prophesied meteoroid much too close for comfort.

"They were supposed to do follow-up studies on us, y'know, me and Aster, to see if we'd got any gothitelle in us, but as far as I know they never did show up. Or maybe they did, and Mama turned them away." Her grin was back. "Sometimes I wonder, though—am I part psychic? Or am I just irreparably fucked up from being doused in my dead sister's blood at the age of six?" Steven almost expected her to start laughing, to keep playing up the image of affable insanity; but Zinnia's expression remained almost vapidly pleasant, though he knew that she was anything but.

She stared at him for a moment longer before getting up from her seat at the windowsill and heading down the stairs abruptly. He didn't move.

He waited a few minutes after hearing the main door open and close before gathering his things to leave. He descended and the exit was in sight—but so was she, still smiling.

She held the door open and accompanied him on his way.

let me know if you have any unanswered questions; i tried to wrap things up as best i could. also i was totally supposed to go to bed early tonight but nope it's 1 in the morning why am i not surprised oops.

i hope i'll be able to publish more stories this week cos i'm on spring break, but who knows. thanks for sticking with me through this one, though, even though i'm shit at updating!

xoxoxo,
ebaz