A Weapon By Any Other Name

When Tali had given Mitch Angelo's number, she'd waited a few days before deciding to contact him. She pleasantly gave her name on the phone, expressed that she was sure he didn't remember who she was because she hadn't spoken during his meeting with Tali and requested that Angelo meet her at a cafe, much like he had with Taliesen.

To further explain, she wanted to talk about the powers he'd had. Expressed that she had something similar. She had questions, and he seemed stable and smart.

It was all very cryptic, but Mitch didn't pay mind to it. The Fae tended to be that way, and while Mitch wasn't doing it purposefully, she just had so much in her head.

She'd gotten to the diner an hour early to pick a booth with a beautiful view of the streetside and ordered herself a hot chocolate and a sundae that she could finish before he arrived.

"Yes!" Mitch said peppy, happy to see him so prompt. She steepled her hands on the table and breathed in to compose herself. Mitch wasn't sure where to begin!

"Your powers... the ones you gave away for your daughter you mentioned something about other things not affecting you like they did people? I have that!"

And she paused awkwardly there, trying to determine what she wanted to say next.

"I — Hrm. Where did you get them? What were you?"

Mitch listened quietly as Angelo explained what he was. It was interesting, and she'd never heard of a Reaper before, but it didn't sound like what she was. Despite herself, Mitch couldn't help but seem a little disappointed.

"It was very nice of you to give all that up for your daughter. What you have doesn't sound like what I have — I ping like a weapon or inanimate object to other powers. I think I have always had it.

"Then I became this. Touched by Fae magic in The Long Dark and I found Taliesen and have been traveling with him for around a hundred years. I have never met someone even near what I am."

Mitch debated what else she wanted to say and decided if she didn't say what was on her mind, this conversation would be over far too soon.

"In Underhill, I cannot be free because of the nature of what I am. People want to own me, you see. I suppose I wondered how someone else would handle this problem. It is isolating."

Mitch nodded when Angelo mentioned cultural differences. She felt a little desolate at having come to a dead end so soon in her quest for information, but she'd find a way to pick herself up.

She laughed a little at the thought of never returning to Underhill. "Maybe, but it is my home. I cannot not return, but I will be fine. I've been living there for over two thousand years!"

Mitch paused and stared at the crook of his arm toward the scar he'd been scratching. Then, she looked at his face and the scarring there, as if it were the first time she was noticing it.

Mitch was used to physical oddities. She'd noticed the scars before without really crediting them to anything. They were just part of a person, like a tail or ears, but now she found herself wondering how he'd gotten them. She'd never seen scars like the ones on his face. Not many of the Fae would show physical impurities like scars.

"Where did those come from, if you were not a weapon?" Mitch motioned to her own face to mirror the placement of the scars on his face.

"You seem surprised?" Mitch didn't know why. She assumed it must have been her young appearance.

She nodded when he motioned to the scars on his face before sitting on her knees to lean over the table and poke at the scar on his inner arm. "And that one.

"Aren't all people weapons metaphorical instead of literal? I suppose unless you turned into a literal weapon, but I don't do that so it's not like anyone could pick me up and swing me around — well, they could, but it wouldn't be too effective!"

Mitch sat back, remaining on her knees. Her grinned died down. "Mostly, I think people just try to trick me to going to their Courts so they can, uh, steal me or something! I'm not sure it's never happened before."