❛❛ why are you so fearless? ❜❜
The question posited by her friend clearly stumped Lyra, her face and body frozen in the throes of its thoughts, mouth parted slightly open as she tried to think of a reasonable explanation for the reason behind her fearlessness. Was it natural? This lack of fear? A habit? A routine–or simply just that she was utterly sick and twisted through and through?
Lyra knew that she didn’t feel much, or most at all–that was the perks and the cons of being a hitman. Training had long eroded her sense of her perception on her emotions, rendering her like a useless lamb and an oblivious brick wall to any passing emotions of others around her. It was the root of all her social mistakes, the anger from others and the frustration that she didn’t understand what it mean to be fearful and tactful that usually frustrated others.
But Lyra had a strange feeling that Dani wasn’t talking about that.
The fearlessness that she referred to was something of a different nature, teetering on the bordering line of breeching into her dual identity–something that she refused to tie over to her usual civilian life. Despite trying to act normally, Lyra never realised that all of her actions and hobbies were anything but normal. Normality to her--was simply what she had been doing for the past six years, knife wielding, flipping, and killing, though the last one couldn’t be done openly now that she had taken a turn to pretend as a civilian.
“I fear a lot of things.” So she takes to avoiding the question deftly, the twist of her words changing the question from being someone fearless to addressing what she was practically afraid of. “I fear spiders, babies, television and new things.” Her toes curled as she sat in her queer position on the sofa, squatting more than sitting--yet another habit of hers that she failed miserably to realise just wasn’t normal. “ What do you mean that I’m fearless?” Lyra finally huffed with a confused pout to her lips, tugging lightly on Dani’s hands.