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It was funny. Even after learning about Tempest’s tragic past, Beatrix couldn’t bring herself to see the girl as anything but a radiant powerhouse. She didn’t look at her and feel sorry: she looked at her and felt… something else. Damaged goods. Trix nodded at that phrase, almost subconsciously. It fit more comfortably than any clothes she owned, any title she bore. Something about the way Tempest spoke sounded like she was processing in real-time, having thoughts that were new to her. “If it makes you feel any better, Tem, you hide your demons pretty damn well. I never would’ve guessed,” Bea spoke out towards the stands, still avoiding eye contact with the brunette. Her red hair shone under the moonlight, the brisk air creating little clouds in the shape of her words. All amorphous blobs twisting into the sky, dissipating slowly. Despite the tumultuous events of the past hour or so, Trix grinned. Lost, chaos, mess. She’d never known how alike they really were; each broken and unwilling to show it. They both wore masks. Finally, she found the confidence to turn back towards the girl. “Fix you!” she let out a bark of laughter at the prospect. “I wouldn’t dare, babe. But, maybe… we can be broken together,” She rushed a few steps forward with that and, on tip-toe, kissed Tempest’s cheek. It was cold and smooth like porcelain. The gesture wasn’t explicitly romantic, but it held passion and tension yet unexpressed. Even after revealing her darkest secret, Trix was still hiding so much. Tempest, outlined in moonlight, looked like a sad, resigned angel. She acted like one too: all that power, but contained to a single path. One day, Trix wanted to make her stray from that path.